


A Plant of Slow Growth

by Callikoneko83



Series: Celestial Fire [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Historical References, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callikoneko83/pseuds/Callikoneko83
Summary: After S8E16, in the course of strengthening Hilltop, Jesus and Daryl go on a run and slowly get to know each other and grow closer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started getting this idea a couple weeks ago, and it wouldn't really leave me alone. And after a vacation in Washington D.C., where we actually stayed just outside the city in Alexandria, VA (which I totally geeked about), the idea started to grow in my head, seeing some of the things in Alexandria's Old Town, and some of the historical sites around the area. This is the second fic I've written for TWD, and I'm sorry if some of the background I gave to Jesus isn't exactly accurate, but it works in my developing headcannon.
> 
> If anything seems familiar, it's probably not mine. I adore Desus stories and have probably read most on here, though after a while, some of the ideas tend to jumble, and remember that imitation (even if not intentional) is the sincerest form of flattery. :)
> 
> Also, I don't know how frequent updates will be. The few times I've written fanfiction has always been oneshots, so I don't know how long this will be or how often it will update. Written on a notepad, all typos are mine. Notice an issue, let me know and I'll fix it!
> 
> The title comes from a quote by George Washington: Friendship is a plant of slow growth and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.

There was something to be said about making the Hilltop stronger. The plans Georgie had left with them needed to be instituted, but with the end of the war, they had a lot of supplies to collect if they wanted to make things work out while they were building. And some of the things needed were harder to find in the regular towns. It was during a community meeting that the idea of where to go was brought up.

Maggie had been standing on the steps of the Barrington House, explaining to the people of Hilltop just what was needed and expected to make their community a better place to live. Expanding the walls, increasing the gardens, finding and making tools, building windmills and barns, finding livestock... there was truly a lot of work ahead of them, but working together, they could accomplish it. One man, a former Savior that had remained had raised the point.

"Has anyone thought about historic places, like this one? Ones that the government kept up in the old world?" It honestly hadn't occurred to them. Most people didn't think about old history in the new world. Looting modern towns and cities seemed to get the supplies needed. The woman had proceeded to point out that they weren't that far from the capitol, and many historic places had been self sufficient. George Washington's plantation, Mount Vernon, was located maybe 10 miles south of the town of Alexandria. "Negan never bothered with it. I don't know if he thought it was too old to be of use, but the government had kept Mount Vernon in working order. They were always doing restorations on the home, so there's probably building tools available, if no one else has yet looted it. And it was a working plantation -- it had vegetable, botanical and medicinal gardens, a greenhouse and an orchard, a working blacksmith's shop. They kept bees, and not even a mile away was a farm and a fishing wharf. There was a distillery and a gristmill that they kept working and producing too, though I don't know how far away. It was a tourist spot, so there should be maps on how to get there. Even if the basics have been looted, some of the tools may still be there or produce in the gardens could be brought back for seeds."

A slow grin had crossed Maggie's face as the former Savior kept explaining. It hadn't taken long after the meeting before a scouting mission to Mount Vernon was arranged to see the state of the plantation and to gather what could be gained. Jesus and Daryl were paired up to head to the area, sent in a van in the hopes that they might find an untouched area, with plans to stop and check Fort Belvoir on the way back.

This was how Jesus found himself in a van with Daryl, driving in silence. He hadn't spoken to the hunter much since he'd found him with the guitar behind the trailer. The hunter had been surly and gruff, angry at the world during the war, and things had been busy trying to build up Hilltop since, that they rarely saw each other, despite Jesus offering a place for the hunter in his trailer. Daryl had been staying with him, but he was gone before Jesus woke, out hunting or helping with keeping their transport running, repairing buildings and teaching some of the others how to make traps, and when the scout returned to the trailer in the evening, Daryl wasn't there yet. The only reason he knew the hunter slept on the couch was the pillow and blanket that were in a different position each morning.

"So..." Jesus started, attempting to alleviate the silence between them. "If I may ask, why haven't you gone back to Alexandria?" He wanted to get to know the hunter better, had been intrigued by him since they first met. Not to mention, Daryl was a serious piece of eye-candy.

Daryl's response was little more than a grunt, followed by silence as he stared out the window with his feet propped up on the dash. Sighing softly, Jesus turned his attention back to the road, not expecting any further response and accepting that the hunter seemingly wanted nothing to do with him.

"Ain't staying nowhere near that asshole. Not after what all he did," Daryl finally spat out after several long minutes of silence. Jesus was so startled by the fact that the hunter was responding, he jumped, jerking the wheel and swerving the van in the process. "Watch it, ya prick!"

"Sorry, sorry. I wasn't expecting a response," Jesus placated as he corrected the van on the road. "You mean Negan, right? I get it, I do. I'm with you and Maggie, I'll help make everything right, when the time comes. I just... I hope it doesn't wind up with a civil war."

Daryl glanced at the scout, raising one thumb up to gnaw on the nail. "Rick'll understand.... 'ventually," he mumbled, ducking his head down in worry. "You never 'splained why yer so willin' ta help. Wouldn'ta thought you'd be in, after savin' all those Saviors b'fore."

Jesus let out another sigh. "It's not that I don't want to save lives. I understand what Rick is trying to do, to bring things back to how they were before. And I think I proved a point with the Saviors. Maggie agreed, and Alden's been great helping to rebuild but.... Even in the world before, there was the death penalty for those who were too bad to really allow to continue. And after everything he did, not just with you, with Maggie and Glenn, with Sasha and Abraham... but with the communities. Even the other Saviors. I really think if anyone deserves to die, it's him." 

Daryl was quiet for a while, taking in the answer to his question as he continued to gnaw on his thumb. Jesus had noticed the hunter did that when he was upset, nervous or confused. It made him long to take the hunter's hand into his own, and his fingers flexed involuntarily against the steering wheel as he fought down the image. After a while, though, Daryl must have come to a decision about whatever was going on in his head, as he let out a quiet grunt and dropped his hand to his lap. "So what's this place we're goin' to?" he asked, glancing over at the scout. Jesus was struck by the curious light in those blue eyes.

"Mount Vernon. It's the home of George Washington, and was kept up as a historical site. I can't believe I never thought of going there before, but... well people that constantly live near tourist places seem to rarely ever go to them. If it's not been overrun or looted clean, it should be really helpful. It was a large plantation, full of gardens, and had a farm nearby, distillery, gristmill, the works. I visited once, when I was younger. I wasn't that impressed, but I suppose they'd done a lot of work to it more recently, before the apocalypse started. Did you ever visit any historical places before?" Jesus couldn't be sure, but with the curious look Daryl had, he seemed interested enough. And it was a safe enough topic to explore, he supposed.

"Nah, didn't do much b'fore. Hunted, wandered, odd jobs. Never really had no chance ta visit anywhere like this." The thumb was back up to his lips, and Jesus was stuck for a moment, unsure what had made the hunter nervous, but pushed on, trying to be optimistic.

"Well, after we clear the walkers, maybe we can take a tour! It'll be interesting. We can find some guides and maps, and look around and explore while we gather what we need! It'll be fun!" Jesus turned his head to look at the hunter, offering a wide grin. He was relieved when he got an amused snort in return, the hand returning to Daryl's lap.

"Alright, prick. Just keep on the lookout too. Don' need no history nerd walkers sneakin' up and chompin' on yer ass." Jesus's grin widened as he turned the van around a corner, the conversation ending, but leaving a comfortable silence between them.

\-----------

They pulled up to a parking lot outside a stone wall and closed iron gates. Carefully getting out of the van and taking care of the few walkers that wandered the lot, they approached, testing the gates only to find them locked. "Keep an eye out here," Jesus said quietly, tucking his knives into their sheaths. Daryl simply grunted an acknowledgement, crossbow at the ready, as Jesus backed up a few paces and ran at the wall, getting a few steps up before grabbing the top with his hands and hauling himself up. Looking around, called back down softly, "There's a few walkers in here. I'm going to take care of them and unlock the gate."

"Careful," was Daryl's only response as he kept an eye out and backed toward the gate, keeping on eye on his surroundings and glancing inside to keep an eye on the scout, ready to shoot through the gate to aid if needed. But the help wasn't needed, as Jesus swiftly took out the three walkers inside and crouched to pick the lock on the chain keeping the gate shut. The sound of the chain sliding off the iron bars and the squeak of the gate's hinges swinging open were loud in the silence, and they both paused, watching for more walkers. They could hear the groans coming from inside, and they each moved to a defensible position, one they could easily run from if the place was overrun. As they watched, walkers started to spill out of the building closest, labelled "Visitor's Center" and others came toward them from up the path. Slow moving, very decomposed, and spaced out. Easy targets.

Sharing a glance, Jesus grinned as Daryl smirked, and they started moving. Arrows and feet flying, knives finding purchase in soft skulls, only to be removed and find a new target in the next walker. The two worked well together, close and long range, both silent and deadly, each complimenting the other's skills. Between them, it wasn't long until they could no longer hear groans from distant walkers. Moving the van in through the gate, they headed into the visitor's center first. Maps were the first priority, as neither of them knew where anything was. Finding one, they unfolded it to look over the area.

A dirty finger stabbed at the map a few times, pointing out the gardens and orchard. "There. If there's still anythin' growing, we can take plants an' seeds back. Grow more food fer everyone."

"And there's the blacksmith, and the greenhouse. There's a giftshop near the greenhouse, maybe they sold seeds? Farm and the Wharf aren't far, definitely worth checking. Don't see anything about beehives, but those are probably in areas listed off limits." Jesus added, pocketing the map when they were done looking. "We should go through the gift shop, see if there's anything worth nabbing while we're here."

"You check there," Daryl drawled, looking at a sign. "I'mma check the cafe. Have ta have dry goods too." Nodding at each other, the two split up. 

In the gift shop, Jesus grabbed some tote bags and started filling them with anything that seemed useful. Honey, alcohol, some of the candy that was still good, blankets and seed packets. He paused as he saw a pin that proclaimed "I visited Mount Vernon, Home of George Washington!" and on an impulse, pocketed it. If Daryl had never visited a tourist attraction before, he was going to try to make it the best experience he could for the hunter. Hopefully, the man wouldn't mistake the gesture as mocking him, and wind up with Jesus getting another punch to the face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions and gardens.

It hadn't taken long for them to gather up what was useful in the visitor's center and pack it in the van. There hadn't been much in the cafe that was non-perishable, but the some basics were there -- flour and oil, pickles, cereal, trail mix, chips and candy. Along with the things Jesus had found, Daryl had also dug out a small and basic toolkit from the cafe area, and threw in a few boxes of disposable plates, cups, napkins and plasticware. After everything had been packed, and a few boxes had been scrounged for if they were able to pull plants up from the gardens, the archer looked at Jesus, frowning as he caught sight of a book in his hand. "Wha's that?" he grunted, nodding to the book.

Jesus simply gave him a wide grin and held up the book. "I thought we could make this memorable. It's a large place, and this is a guide book. Not only does it help with the map, but I thought we could learn some of the history of things too! Make it a proper tour."

The look in the scout's eyes was different, something almost fond that Daryl had caught a few times before, and it never failed to send a streak of warmth through his chest. But as always, the hunter had no inclination to study the feeling, and instantly drew away, head down, thumb rising involuntarily to his mouth to gnaw at the nail. "Don't see how no hist'ry from b'fore will help us now," he grunted, watching the other man from the corner of his eyes. As Jesus started to deflate, he felt a surge of panic, guilt that he had caused such a reaction, the hunter blurted, "But mebbe it'll tell us how ta use some o' th' stuff we find, or where it is." That said, he turned to the van, hopping in the drivers seat and starting it up, not seeing the fond grin or hearing the soft chuckle from the scout before he joined in the passenger's seat.

The drive up toward the mansion didn't take long, as they were stopped by a small wall and a slope at the [gateway](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1wxo6arDuUfeAoSJXgS30xT0YmySX4G9-). Daryl blinked at it, gawping at how useless such a tiny wall was. The ground on the other side was level with the top of the wall, which couldn't have been higher than his thighs. It stretched down each side, eventually curving back around the estate. "Wha's th' point of such a tiny wall?" he asked. "If there's no break, we can't run th' van up ta fill it."

Jesus looked up, pulling his nose from the guidebook he'd been skimming so he could try to be a good guide, to study the wall. "It's called a ha-ha wall. Let the hogs roam free on the grounds so they don't rip up the landscape, but they can't get past the wall to the house. And from above, you can't see the wall, so it looks like one large open expanse. It was a symbol of wealth to have one."

Daryl snorted, turning the van off and getting out. "It's inconvenient," he growled, tugging his crossbow onto his shoulder and heading up the steps through the open gateway. He gazed at the old mansion at the end of the pathways that veered off to the left and right, before letting out a grunt and heading to the right. "Kitchen garden's this way, if I 'member the map right. Orchard too." Jesus followed, flipping through his guidebook to the gardens and rattling of various different details of the gardens and the pathways they walked in a quiet voice, even as he had a knife in hand, just in case.

When they found the gate that took them to the lower gardens, they paused, looking around before the scout broke the silence with an awed, "We hit the jackpot!" While they could tell the garden of fruit and vegetables had once been neat and orderly, it had grown wild, overgrowing some of the boundaries keeping it contained. Weeds were everywhere, but it was easy to see the produce, ripe for the picking and spreading beyond their original boundaries. Pointing out a small building along one of the walls, Jesus added, "There might be gardening tools in there, maybe even plant pots or other boxes to transfer some of the plants to. Best get what we can now."

With a grunt and a nod, the hunter headed toward the building, frowning when the door opened easily and knocking at the door, listening for any movement inside. A soft groan and shuffling sound told him there was at least one walker inside, and he waited for it to come into view before firing an arrow, catching it between the eyes. Listening some more, he headed inside, eyes darting around the room. He felt the hand around his boot before he heard it, but even as he glanced down to find the half walker reaching for higher up his leg, there was a knife embedded in its skull, with wide blue eyes staring up at him in worry. "Are you alright?" Jesus asked in a breathy, concerned tone.

Nodding and looking away as another streak of warmth shot through his chest, Daryl grunted out an affirmative, thumb rising once more to be gnawed on. "Couldn't get through ma boot." he managed finally, looking around the building, anywhere other than looking at Jesus. "There, we can use those," he pointed, almost desperate to get the subject back to business as usual, not wanting to examine what the concern for his well-being made him feel. Stacked in a corner where he pointed were some wooden crates with a number of gardening tools, including shovels, along the wall.

Jesus stepped up beside him with a smile. "Well, looks like it's time to do a little gardening then. I'll head back to the van. If this place is as untouched as it seems from the first garden, we might be here a couple days, so it's best to radio Maggie and let her know." Daryl nodded with another grunt, still refusing to meet his gaze and shouldered his crossbow again, picking up a stack of the crates. Ignoring Jesus, who moved out of his way but stood slightly slack jawed watching him before shaking his head, Daryl carried the crates outside. Watching the ninja head out of the garden from the corner of his eye as he headed back in for the shovels, the hunter huffed slightly, wondering what was wrong with him that he was getting so distracted when the scout wasn't really doing anything out of the ordinary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do wonder if I'm being a little too detailed in this story as to what they're doing. I can gloss a bit more, but would love to hear some feedback so I can try to make this story more likable, if that's the case. I very much appreciate those who have already left comments and kudos -- it makes me so happy to know this is appreciated! I hope to have another chapter in a few more days, but with my work schedule, I can't really make any promises. I could also try for longer chapters, if that would be better, but that would mean longer waiting for a new chapter as well.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More gardens and some conversation.

Jesus headed back to the van, trying to control his heartbeat. Panic had surged through him when he'd stepped into the little garden house and seen the walker with its hand around Daryl's boot, poised to bit into the flesh of the hunter's calf. Trying to focus on the task at hand, the scout blew out a slow breath, shaking his head before jogging the rest of the way to the vehicle to dig out the hand held radio. Turning it on, he called into it, "Maggie, it's Jesus."

Static crackled for a moment, before he heard her voice come through. "Jesus, what is it? Everything alright?"

Grinning softly as he looked back over the view ahead of him from where the van was parked. End of the world or not, this historical place was still beautiful. "We're going to be out for a few days. Mount Vernon seems like it's barely been touched, and the gardens look like they're overgrown. It's practically a gold mine, in terms of food and fresh produce. And if there's as many working and restored things as was assumed, we'll be coming back with a full haul, and we've not even gotten to the farm or the gristmill or anything yet."

"That's great news! Should I send anyone else out to help?" Maggie's voice was a little tinny through the static, but he could still hear the joy in her voice at the information.

"No, we'll be fine. We can work on packing what we won't be able to fit with us somewhere it'll be easier to get to. The grounds of the mansion and everything have a wall we can't get the van through, so we have to lug everything to it. Be easier to bring it up and stash it in the visitor's center or something for a quicker pick up later."

"Sounds good, Jesus. I'll give you three days. If you're not back by then, I'll send someone out to check on you. Good luck and stay safe!"

Smiling to himself, he wished her goodbye and turned the radio back off to save the batteries before placing it back into the van. Digging out a pair of bottled waters from what had been scavenged from the cafe, he closed up the vehicle and jogged his way back to the garden he'd left Daryl in. The two of them worked together in a companionable silence, enjoying the peace of the grounds. The noise as they worked, moving from one garden to the next, had only attracted around half a dozen walkers from elsewhere on the property and were easily taken care of. It was late afternoon when they took a break, having packed the van half full of boxes and crates packed with dirt, multiple plants growing from each. Settling side by side on the ha-ha wall, they ate fresh fruits and vegetables, drinking water.

"I can't believe we found this much fresh food!" Jesus exclaimed with a grin, leaning in and softly nudgeing Daryl's shoulder with his own. "When we get it replanted back at Hilltop, even just this little bit we've gotten, it'll help immensely! Too bad we can't take it all back in one go."

The hunter let out a soft grunt in response, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward, an almost content and pleased expression on his face that sent the scout's heart stuttering at the sight. "Still got lots ta do, though."

Jesus smiled softly, nodding before pulling his gaze away from the archer and looking into the back of the van again. The lower garden had been full of produce plants -- cabbage and a variety of other leafy greens, beans, eggplant, squash, peppers, onion, tomatoes, strawberries and other berries, melons, and a few herbs like mint and rosemary -- it really had been almost like Christmas, given the state of how things usually were when you found them in now that the world had ended. And when they'd reached the orchard, they realized that none of the trees were small enough to bring back, but they'd picked a number of fruits and boxed them up to take back -- peaches, apples, cherries, pears, plums and apricots. They'd have to come back with an open truck bed to see if they could transplant some of the smaller trees to Hilltop.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Daryl heaved himself to his feet, breath stuttering as he watched Daryl suck the juices from the peach he'd been eating from his fingers. "C'mon. S'time ta check th' rest." The gravelly voice of the hunter, after that display had a wild surge of desire run through Jesus, and he stamped down the feeling quickly, knowing that Daryl would be more likely to run away if he allowed anything to show. Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded, tossing the apple core in his hand out to the large expanse of grass and following the hunter.

The upper garden was almost as useful. While still beautiful, spread out in sections [in front of the greenhouse](https://drive.google.com/open?id=18ih9QMPjgAFbNifzbdnB1A75MgrviOFF), it had mostly been ornamental flowers and [shaped hedges](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1eFaVn3YMYLwKA1I5hjbGL40BkC2ZJHbT), and Jesus had been about to leave when Daryl grunted, stooping to look at a purple flower. When the scout had questioned him, the hunter had grunted out, "Coneflower. Roots are good fer infection an' helpin' with immunities. S'got 'nother name, um... Echinacea?" That name Jesus had recognized instantly, and looked at the grouping of flowers before looking out at the rest of the botanical garden before his attention had been caught by the hunter's voice once more. "That one o'er there looks like lavender. That's Calendula. Foxglove. Lamb's Ear."

Daryl stood straight, eyes scanning the garden, one arm outstretched, pointing as he spoke, the other hand gripping the strap of his crossbow. "An' looks like more produce in th' middle o' these, once ya get past th' boxwood an' other flowers an' trees."

Smiling softly, Jesus had studied the hunter, smile widening as Daryl realized he was being stared at and hunched his shoulders almost defensively, bringing his thumb to his mouth to gnaw on the nail again. "How do you know so much about plants, Daryl?"

There was silence for a few long moments, but the scout knew if he gave the hunter time, he'd get an answer. "Self taught," Daryl finally grunted out. "Got lost in th' woods as a kid. After, found a book at th' library to teach m'self what was useful." Jesus's interest perked up at that -- it was rare he heard anything about the hunter's past, and he wanted to know so much more about the man, but it had apparently been too personal and Daryl's defenses had come up, stepping forward down the path and toward the windowed building on the other side of the garden.

Following close behind, Jesus looked over the garden again, seeing the produce plants filling the sections of the garden, but allowing the flowers and flowering trees to standout as the immediate focal point of the garden. They walked along the building until they rounded behind it, blinking at all the doors, half of which were open. Checking inside the open rooms, they realized that they had found the displays of the old slave quarters, and moved to the closed doors, Jesus picking the locked ones open. The "Greenhouse Giftshop" was empty of people, full of more useless knicknacks like magnets and pins, but another display of seeds caught his eye. "Let's grab those seeds, and see what else we can snag before we dig up this garden."

Grabbing a bag from behind the register, Daryl headed to the display, picking up handfuls of seed packets and stuffing the bags as Jesus wandered the giftshop, finding another couple tote bags and loading them with bottle and can openers, blankets, cookware, candles and the dishware that seemed less likely to break as soon as it was touched. Finding some toys and old fashioned games, he tossed a few of those in, as it wouldn't hurt to having things for Maggie's baby and other children that would eventually be at the different communities. A handful of books went in as well -- it couldn't hurt to remember some of their history from before the world ended, and there were a few gardening and colonial recipe books, including one about alcohol (likely from the distillery they had yet to drive to) as well. He paused at another display, of botanical wall prints and glanced at Daryl.

Despite that the hunter had been staying with Jesus in his trailer, the scout had barely seen him, and he wondered if Daryl thought he was simply a guest. Jesus wanted to make Daryl feel more at home, though, but outright asking wouldn't get much but a gruff defensive answer, if he answered at all. And Daryl preferred to be outdoors all the time. Maybe a few decorations tailored more to the hunter would help? Deciding that it couldn't hurt to try, he quickly rolled a couple of the prints up and tucked them into the bag, adding in a pillow that looked like a rabbit with a smirk, before turning back to Daryl, who had four bags handing from one arm, full of seed packets and other various gardening supplies. In his other arm was a box he'd found, filled with food -- the shop had a small display similar to the one in the main gift shop with candy and snacks, honeys and teas, preserves and nuts, and even a few bags of grits and spices. Jesus could see a few towels and pot holders sticking out of the box as well.

Grinning, Jesus nodded his head to the door. "Let's get all this loaded, check the greenhouse and dig up this garden of it's medicinal plants. Then we can figure out where to sleep tonight and look at the rest of the grounds tomorrow." With an agreeable grunt, Daryl headed out of the shop, trekking down to the van with Jesus close behind him. The rest of the day went smoothly, the grounds peaceful, overall. The occasional walker would show up, coming from where the map showed the farm was, but the walls around the initial site, that had kept visitors from simply walking in when the tourist spot was closed, kept a good chunk of the dead out.

When they were done with their work for the day, Jesus offered a tired by happy grin to the hunter as they loaded the last crate into the van, which was three quarters full by this point. "We're going to have to make multiple trips, maybe pack up stuff for next time and stash it, just in case anyone else comes to check this place out. And after we've gotten all that, maybe we can fortify this place a little better and keep some people here to tend to the gardens? I don't think we can fit all of the plants here back at Hilltop."

Daryl bit his thumb in thought, shaking his head. "Nah. We can split all this. We got first dibs on th' good stuff, an' some will be given ta th' other communities, but we jus' let th' others know where ta go, they c'n dig up their own plants." Closing the doors on their haul, the hunter moved toward the front, pulling their packs out from between the front seats, tossing Jesus's to him. Even if they were only to be gone for a day, they always took packs for overnight, because you never knew when a herd would blow through and delay you. Looking around, and seeing nothing but the grounds of Mount Vernon as far as they could see, Daryl headed up the steps and dropped his pack in a grassy area, unhooking the bedroll. "Seem's safe 'nough here. Gonna sleep under th' stars, t'night." He said, starting to set up a general campsite.

Smiling fondly at the relaxed line of the hunter's broad shoulders, knowing it was rare they could do that, Jesus joined Daryl in setting up camp, intending to read through the guidebook before they slept so he could continue a proper tour for the hunter the next day, as they went through the buildings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of the plants and produce that I listed are in the gardens at Mount Vernon, however they may not all be entirely accurate. I am not a gardener, nor a woodsman, and cannot identify such things, despite that we walked through it. Some information comes from my visit, some comes from their website, and the rest is me looking up what generally grows in Virginia.
> 
> Comments and kudos are music to my soul! I love feedback!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside the mansion and history lessons.

It was birdsong and a ray of dawn's light that filtered around the mansion that woke Daryl the next morning. He lay in his bedroll, listening intently for a moment, hearing only the birdsong, the wind in the trees and the soft snores coming from Jesus's still sleeping form. Rising to his feet, the hunter stretched with a quiet grunt as a few joints popped. Quickly and efficiently, he went about breaking down their brief campsite and getting a few things for breakfast. The gardens really had been a goldmine, and it was nice to have something other than the stale granola bars they'd brought to snack on.

Packing up his bedroll back into the van, Daryl settled on the ground again, quietly eating his breakfast as he gazed across what he could see of the mansion and estate. It was peaceful, almost untouched, and the archer found himself curious almost in spite of himself. He knew that they were in a historical site, the home of George Washington, first president of the United States, not that such things mattered anymore. But he couldn't help but be almost in awe of what Jesus had relayed to him from that stupid guidebook about the gardens they'd been in already. He'd never been in an area so old, or at least not in an area kept to look as it had that long ago and consciously known he was in such a place. His gaze lingered on the sleeping form of his companion, the guidebook resting open on his chest. Jesus looked soft when he slept, peaceful, and Daryl couldn't help but let his eyes trace the slope of his brow and the curve of his lips, before looking away as the man stirred.

Clearing his throat, the hunter let out a grunt as he rose to his feet, tossing away an apple core. "'Bout time ya woke up. C'mon, we've got work ta do." Daryl kept his attention away from the scout as he stretched and took care of his own morning routine, focusing on checking his crossbow and grabbing a few bags they hadn't yet used out of the van where they'd stored everything. "Earl'd be glad to get more supplies for the blacksmith, should be helpful there."

Jesus let out an agreeable hum, turning to look at the mansion behind them. "That'll probably have the most useful items, yes. But they put furniture in the mansion for tours, and even if the items are restoration or copies, some of it will be useful to us too. At the very least, there's beds and we can take the blankets and pillows. Can't ever have too many of those." The scout turned to Daryl with a grin, his eyes wide and happy, and the hunter found himself caught for a moment before forcing himself to look away. "And I can give you that tour I promised you! I read quite a few things I think you'll find interesting, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl let out another grunt, shouldering his crossbow and tossing a granola bar and an apple at the man. "Hurry up then, let's get goin'," he said in a gruff tone, looking away at the mansion. "If we c'n get through th' other buildin's an' find th' bees, we c'n move on ta th' other areas, se how they're still doin'. Don't know that we'll have room fer much more, though."

A muffled but thoughtful hum came from the scout as he chewed a piece of apple, tossing his own bedding into the van. "Pile everything useful that we can't fit somewhere easy to get to, and come back for it. And speaking of bees, we'll have to find out if anyone knows anything about them, or find some books about it. Bringing back the supplies would be a helpful start, though. We might want to think about hitting a library at some point, just for information on how to do different things and for teaching purposes."

"An' so's ya c'n add ta th' clutter in th' trailer, ya mean," Daryl scoffed. He felt his cheeks heat up at the responding grin and turned away. "C'mon, let's go." He headed up the right path toward the mansion, on guard for walkers, but still relatively relaxed as they passed under the trees lining the pathway. If nothing else, the hunter could admit to himself that the grounds were beautiful, perhaps more so than he would have found them before they started growing wild. It didn't take too long before Jesus pulled them to a stop. "What now?"

"I thought you might like to see this, since you seem to like nature so much," Jesus responded with a smug smirk, pointing to a tree on their left. The tree was huge, clearly old, and had a small black placard on it framed in white with white lettering. Letting out an annoyed huff, Daryl stomped forward to read it, knowing they wouldn't get any further without the scout annoying the crap out of him for not even looking. As he read the [placard](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1eBhfI-dzcDXNLgc7qI9ZtptZbpbWGqoP), his eyebrows shot up in surprise, interested in spite of his own determination not to be. "Liriodendron tulipifera. Tulip Poplar. Planted by George Washington, 1785," Jesus read aloud over his shoulder. "It's one of only a small handful of trees that still exist from that era on this property." The scout tugged off a glove and pressed his bare palm on the tree next to Daryl's, that he hadn't even realized he'd placed there. The hunter hadn't realized how small and slim Jesus's hands were in comparison to his own until that moment.

Shaking himself back to awareness, Daryl pulled away from the tree, his thumb immediately moving to his mouth to gnaw almost desperately on the nail. His weight shifted from foot to foot for a moment before he finally let himself speak, his voice soft and unsure. "...thanks. That... that was interestin'." Glancing at the scout again, he turned as he saw a pleased smile flit across the other's lips and headed for the mansion. Daryl didn't know what to think about what was going on and how it was making him feel, but he couldn't help but pause briefly to look up toward the top of the tree, committing the large plant and the way the [sunlight filtered through the branches](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1ja-BKXoTDQShoekny7rZkWMy-ua05wJW) and leaves to memory.

It was as the reached the house and stepped up steps toward the right hand front door that Jesus spoke again. "Did you know that this mansion is not built out of stone? It's built entirely from wood."

The comment brought Daryl to a grinding halt as he looked at the walls of the house and the tawny brickwork. "Nah," he commented. "Now yer jus' makin' shit up." Even as he said it thought, he spotted one of the 'bricks' that had a corner broken, and a beam of wood clearly beneath it. His fingers reached out to feel over the 'stone' siding, his mind telling him the texture was stone. "How-?" He was cut off as Jesus started to speak.

"Washington was first and foremost a farmer. Stone was expensive, and was built to last, and so all of the buildings dedicated to farming were built from stone and brick, like the greenhouse and stables and so on. If there was a fire, those would stand, the family home could be rebuilt. But making wood look like stone made the house seem even more expensive and fancy. It's called rustication. The wood siding is cut and beveled to look like stone blocks, then painted. Then, a thicker coat of paint is added on and sand -- I think it's crushed local sandstone in this case -- is thrown on the wet paint until it won't stick anymore. The sand casting gives it the appearance and feeling of stone, even up close. It also helps to protect the wood and give it more durability." Jesus grinned, clearly pleased at having shocked the hunter, though his own fingers ran over the wall as well, just as interested.

Biting his lip, Daryl pulled away again, reaching for the door closest. The door was locked, and he moved down to the next, and then the third to find them all the same. Motioning Jesus to the door, he kept watch and scanned the grounds, seeing small buildings scattered to both the north and south of the building. There was a click and a satisfied hum before the scout pulled away, pushing the door open, gesturing for Daryl to go first. If this had been a historical place and still locked up, he doubted any workers had been here when the world ended. Still, he brought his crossbow up as Jesus banged the hilt of one of his knives on the door, both of them listening intently inside. All that came back to them was silence, and they carefully stepped inside, shutting the door behind them.

The room was dusty but open and tall. Sea-green walls and a bright white ceiling with dark green trim immediately stuck out. Paintings on the walls, chairs with frilly cushions and large windows on the northern wall with a fancy fireplace opposite and Daryl scoffed at how fancy it all was. "Nothin' helpful in this room," he grunted, about to step forward.

"This is the New Room, called the new room because it was the last room built. Originally, Mount Vernon was much smaller, built by Washington's father, and our first president added on to it twice into what you see now. This room was for greeting visitors and formal functions. The room is larger than most homes in colonial times, so it was very impressive." Jesus's soft voice brought him to a pause before he headed into another room, and Daryl glared, uncaring of the details, and ignoring the warmth that soft gaze made bloom in his chest. There was understanding in the scout's eyes as he continued, "but he never forgot where his roots came from. Look, on the fireplace and in the ceiling. All the carvings and details. They're all farm tools. He contributed all the wealth he put into this room to his farming, and commemorated it."

The hunter couldn't help but to look, eyes darting back to the fireplace. A horse pulling a plow, a woman gathering water from a well, farmhands herding sheep and a cow, all carved into the fancy mantle on the fireplace. Glancing up at the ceiling, four of the carvings were clearly agricultural. Shovel and pick, scythes, tills all in prominent places on the ceiling design. Looking around, he saw the same added in detail above the doorways. Looking closer, many of the paintings, and all of the larger ones, were landscapes of rivers and waterfalls. Daryl hesitated, his mind whirling.

This was supposed to be a scavenging run, not a history lesson. But he was surprised, impressed despite himself. He hadn't thought he'd have any interest in this fancy mansion any more than he'd been impressed with the houses in Alexandria. After all, none of them seemed like anything he should be anywhere near. Was it because it was history, things he'd never known? He didn't think so. It was interesting, and Daryl did enjoy learning, not that he'd ever have let anyone know, but because the history he was being told was very down to earth. It was something he could relate to. He appreciated that this fancy room gave honor to the simple roots it came from. He appreciated that the expensive stone was reserved for the utility and necessary buildings, rather than the family home. That the grounds had served both a practical purpose as well as aesthetically.

Jesus's voice drew him out of his revelation. "There's probably more we can use in the other rooms. Dining rooms and parlors are on the rest of this floor, and bedrooms are upstairs." With a nod and a soft grunt, Daryl followed the other man, relaxing as he started to spout another fact and general information about the room they entered into, listening with interest even as he searched for useful items to throw into their bags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been kind of flipping between Daryl and Jesus's points of view, and I'm not sure if I should continue that or not. I do seem to struggle with Daryl's point of view at times. Hopefully things are making sense and they aren't too OOC. I'd appreciate it if anyone would point out anything that seems wildly OOC though! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the house.

Daryl Dixon was a very complicated man, Jesus mused to himself as they moved into the next room, and yet was a very simple soul. The scout had been watching Daryl for a long time, ever since they had first met, in fact. It was true that Daryl wasn't necessarily the sort of person someone would immediately peg as handsome, but he was certainly attractive and eye-catching. Physically, he had caught Jesus's attention when the hunter held the scout at gun-point. It was hard to ignore those bulging biceps and intense blue-eyed stare, after all.

But the more Jesus had watched Daryl, the more he learned. He was a good man, incredibly loyal, honest, caring, compassionate. But at the same time, it was rather obvious that Daryl Dixon had a lot of demons in his life. The man didn't like to be touched except by those he trusted, would lash out in anger before expressing any other emotion, and was constantly tense. It was only through careful (and sneaky) examination of how Daryl reacted to everything that Jesus started to understand how the man worked. Alexandria and Barrington House made Daryl nervous, tense and unwilling to go out of his way to touch anything. As if he was afraid to ruin whatever he might touch. The man relaxed in the trailer and, despite the danger everywhere of walkers and humans, outside the walls on runs.

It was clear the hunter had a rough past, though the scout knew very few details. What he had been able to put together painted a picture of a poor, rural Georgia upbringing and a less than affectionate childhood. With emphasis on the poor and lack of affection. And so Jesus had started the tour of the home with a few tests. The tree had been a fluke -- Jesus had read that there were a few on the grounds, but he'd only caught the sign by chance, and it was easy enough to tell the hunter enjoyed nature, and it had pleased the scout to know that Daryl had been at least interested in the age of the sturdy poplar.

But with the mansion itself, Jesus had already found out a few further interesting things about the hunter. Daryl appreciated hard work. The craftsmanship that went into the effort of making wood look like stone had certainly drawn the hunter's interest. The quick dismissal of the New Room and the information of how impressive it was had quickly earned the archer's ire, until the details about farming had been brought up. Clearly, the hunter appreciated that Washington had never forgotten where his roots came from, but what was meant to impress and show off wealth brought only disdain. With that in mind, Jesus decided to stick to facts he thought Daryl might appreciate -- Washington's dedication to the farm, his family, his strength of character and ingenuity.

He had little to say about the parlors and dining rooms, and there wasn't much for them to take in any of them save some candles, snuffers and a few towels. Some sheet music on an old harpsichord. A couple dishes and an old-styled deck of playing cards. Utensil sets and a bottle case in the dining room. All of the rooms were set up for tourists, so there wasn't a lot of items 'stocked' anywhere. A small comment on the 'Little Parlor' and how it had been turned into a music and family room by Washington and how he had helped to ensure that his children and grandchildren were instructed in music though he had no such knowledge himself had earned the slightest upturn of one side of Daryl's mouth. That slight half-grin Jesus counted as a win, and he responded with a grin of his own as they continued scouring the bottom floor. 

In the central Passage, Jesus had pointed out the old key in a case on the wall, uncertain of if Daryl would at all be interested, but remarking, "Washington was so well respected as a President and a person, that Marquis de Lafayette gifted him with this key to the Bastille, a famous prison in Paris, France, after its destruction." That fact had earned an arched eyebrow, but little other response, and the scout took that as mild interest. So he moved on to something else. "The banister to the stairs is original to the expansion of the house. When the third floor was constructed, the original staircase was moved to reach the third floor, and this one put into it's place. So Washington himself touched this banister."

There it was. That brief glance of awe, the curious inspection by blue eyes and a gentle, almost timid trace of callused fingers over a smooth railing. Respect for the craftsmanship and age, the sheer history itself. Jesus smiled softly at Daryl's interest, basking in the warmth that spread through his chest at the reaction. Glancing into the bedroom, the scout stepped in, calling Daryl to come help him, trying to keep things still somewhat regular so as to not overwhelm the hunter. The blue painted room had a large bed with covers and curtains. "We can strip this and take it with."

Daryl nodded at the comment, already reaching for the comforter, even as Jesus rattled off another fact he had learned from the guidebook. "Mount Vernon was used by all sorts as a way point, or a rest stop on their travels, given how long they could be back then. Washington didn't turn anyone away, and there were as many as over 600 people that stayed in this house throughout one year. One man by the name of Watson visited with a bad cold, and his journal detailed that after he had lain to sleep in the downstairs bedroom, his cough had gotten worse, and he heard the door of his room open, and when he looked past the bed-curtains, he saw Washington himself standing at his bedside with a hot cup of tea in hand for him."

Jesus was rewarded with Daryl's pause as he considered the story he was being told, hands hovering in midair, clutching the bedding he'd already stripped, turning the information over in his mind. His head tipped slightly to one side, cocking almost like an animal's in confusion and consideration, and it was endearing. Ducking his own head to hide a smile, Jesus continued to pull down the bed-curtains, bundling everything up and placing it outside in the central passage. They could stash everything they'd take there to move to the van.

Admitting to himself that he was enjoying playing tour guide, he wondered if any of this would given them a chance to talk about more personal things, allow him to learn more about the hunter than through sheer observation. Finishing their packing of the bedding from the bedroom, they made their way into Washington's study. This room garnered more useful items, pens and quills, paper, journals, a small telescope, oil lamps, and a small portable sundial. Tapping the tall desk against the wall, Jesus commented, "Washington wrote his will here. After he died, they found it and in it he released all of the slaves he owned upon his wife's death after him. He's the only one of our founding fathers that ever released the slaves he owned. Not all of those working here were freed, as some were not owned by him, but he gave 123 people their freedom." 

The hunter paused again, tilting his head to the side in that way that made Jesus want to coo at him. It was adorable how interested Daryl was despite the way he kept trying to brush off the information the scout was feeding him. A thoughtful hum escaped the hunter's lips before he pulled himself from his thoughts, looking around again. The fan chair now drew Daryl's attention as he poked and prodded the machine in the simple and yet elegantly decorated room. "Sit in it," Jesus prompted, pleased to see Daryl so interested. "Put your feet on the treadle, and rock it back and forth. It'll move the fan over your head to help keep you cool."

Daryl did as instructed, setting his crossbow on the desk and sitting gingerly in the old chair, letting out a single huff of a chuckle as he had to duck his head a little to avoid being hit by the fan, but glancing up at Jesus as the fan breeze gently blew the hair from the hunter's eyes. "Think we could bring this back fer Maggie?" he asked, bringing a thumb to his mouth and biting down on the nail. The chair would be difficult to pack into the van and awkward to carry, but the hunter looked so hopeful, and so Jesus nodded. The pleased light in Daryl's eyes at bringing an interesting and functional present back to Maggie made him look younger, the barest hint of a shy smile on the hunter's lips. The study also found them finding a few different empty storage chests, which they used to pack up a lot of the loose odds and ends for easier transport, stacking up their spoils in the central passage again. 

The duo headed upstairs to the bedrooms, finding similar items to take in the 5 rooms -- bedding, bed curtains, and various different chests and boxes to tuck things into. It was a green wallpapered room (Jesus thought it was called the Chintz room, if he remembered the map correctly) that Daryl came to a half, staring at the old fashioned crib. It was an elegant thing, the rails delicately carved, and posts that arched up over the crib, from which hung more bed curtains, mimicking the larger beds that were all over the house. It was a smart idea, actually, and despite the fancy way it was made, Daryl had seemed entranced, but the hunter had always seemed to be of the mind of 'nothing but the best' for his family, and the bed-curtains made the crib even more practical -- netting could be hung in warmer seasons to protect the baby from insects, and heavier curtains to help keep the warmth in during the colder seasons.

Daryl turned to strip the bedding from the main bed, folding and tucking as much as he could into the crib, clearly intent on taking it with them, even as Jesus relayed the information he could remember. "George Washington's granddaughter, I think she was, Nelly lived in this room, gave birth to her daughter only a few weeks before he passed away." Jesus pulled the leather covered trunk he found in the closet out as he spoke. "This crib is a reproduction of the one that belonged, but it should be fine -- pretty much all reproductions are made to still work. It's going to be difficult to get this down the stairs though. Let's take it out last, get everything else first?" 

A soft grunt was the only agreement he got as the hunter finished stripping the bed and taking the pillows, packing them into the crib and rounding it with a hand that gently touched the wood, but avoided the white curtains, not wanting to soil such a gift. His gaze settled on a small framed print on the wall, before he shook himself and headed out of the room. "C'mon," he grumped, seemingly intent on trying not to keep showing such emotion. "We still got more shit ta get through."

Smiling softly as he watched Daryl leave the room, Jesus followed toward the only room they hadn't get been in on this floor, into the Washington bedroom. The room was similar to the study -- elegant and yet simple with white walls and blue embellishments, portraits of children and simple, solid wood furniture. Daryl hesitated as he realized just whose bedroom he had entered, as Jesus spoke quietly behind him. "This was their bedchamber. George Washington died on that bed. The frame is the original. After his death, his wife, Martha, never set foot in this room again. She went up to the third floor and stayed in a room there, too overcome with grief to ever stay in the room they shared again."

Clearly the mention of grief brought some of the hunter's own to rise as the man ducked his head, hiding behind his long bangs and bringing his hand up to gnaw mercilessly at his thumb. Jesus wished he could go to Daryl and wrap him in a hug, but he knew it would only make the other man angry and push him away, so he busied himself with stripping off the sheets from the bed, privately glad that it was only the frame that was original. He'd feel horrible taking the original bedding off, after such a thing had happened, even more than 200 years later. It took a moment before Daryl moved again, ducking into the closet and opening a trunk, tucking blankets and linens and a basic sewing kit inside. 

It didn't take long for the two to take all of the trunks and boxes they had found down to the first floor, and it was easier than Jesus had thought, wrestling the crib down the stairs, though he probably hadn't helped as much as he could have, too caught in the way Daryl's biceps bulged as they hefted the heavy wooden crib down the staircase to be overly helpful, only snapping to attention when the hunter growled at him in frustration. And finally, they were on their way up to the third floor. The small bedchambers up there were quickly stripped, Jesus pausing in one room filled with yellow covers and seat cushions to tell the hunter what happened to Martha Washington. "She lived here until her death. She fell ill, and died less than three years after he passed away. She released all of the slaves in his will at some point in that time, before she died as well."

A frown crossed the hunter's lips, his head ducking just enough to hide his eyes and he headed out of the room without touching a thing, turning and climbing the ladder up to the cupola. Jesus frowned and finished stripping the room, giving Daryl the space he needed and wondering if he had pushed the tour guide facts too far. He had thought he was pretty good at reading Daryl, but the last bit of information might have been too much, triggered a memory and made the hunter retreat into himself. The scout made certain to take things downstairs with the rest of their collected spoils, finding the china cupboard useless with too breakable dishes on display, despite the fact that the general tour wouldn't come up to this floor.

Kicking himself for a few minutes as he sat with their things in the first floor, the scout sighed, unlocking the door in the central passage to start hauling items out to their van to pack up, thinking he might be able to rearrange some of the plants to make the packing a little easier. At least the trunks they had found helped with a lot of it, and two were still empty. He couldn't help but glance up at the figure he could just make out through the windows of the cupola as he crossed the bowling green, completely avoiding the paths on either side this time to get to the van. Daryl would be down sooner than later, and he'd apologize for pushing the tour onto him. Keeping work moving was the best way to help with the apology in the meantime.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explanations and outbuildings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had quite a bit of this written when I finally watched the first episode of Season 9. I guess I'm officially an AU now, though I think it's funny that I had a similar idea as the first episode! Comments and Kudos are appreciated, and I would love to hear about how you think this story is so far!

Chimneys on either end of the house blocked the view to the North and South, but the eastern view from the cupola was a [gorgeous view](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1bvpx4_-s3LYburHoEc1Vfyh_QLZkeToT) of the Potomac River and the shore beyond, while the western view allowed one to see the long span of the estate and it's now rather wild landscape. It was still rather amazing to Daryl that there were no signs of walkers on the property, but the only movement he could see was Jesus carting their scavenged goods to the van.

With a heavy sigh, the hunter considered the ninja and the day they'd had so far. It hadn't been anything the other man had done that had upset Daryl, so much as the thought of Martha Washington staying up in a bedroom by herself, refusing to step back in her old bedchamber after her husband's death, even until her own. It made him think of Maggie, the way she remained at Hilltop after Glenn's death, and the worry of her death in the same way Lori's happened. He knew that they were better prepared than they had been for Judith's birth, but it didn't stop the worry. Maggie's cries of anguish still rang through his head -- when Hershel had been beheaded by the governor, when he'd carried Beth out of that hospital, and when Glenn had been beaten to death before her eyes. The hardship the woman he thought of as a sister had gone through and the parallels of her loss of a husband to that of the tales Jesus had told him of the people that had lived here had those cries rolling through his head again in an endless loop.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he bit hard at the flesh, watching the scout moving through the overgrown lawn to pack up more items. It wasn't fair of him to leave the man to do all the work himself, so Daryl huffed another sigh and pulled himself together before heading back down. Heading down to the main floor, he saw the door open and the first two trunks they had stacked missing. Grabbing another, he headed out to follow Jesus's example to finish getting everything loaded. They still had a lot to search, and if the rest of the areas were as profitable as what they'd already found, they would need multiple trips, or have to find a trailer or another car to haul the rest.

It was with this in mind that he approached Jesus at the van as the scout shifted the spoils of their trip so far to try to fit more items into the van. The ninja immediately straightened and turned to him as soon as he realized Daryl was standing there. "Hey, I'm really sorry if I pushed too far or said something I shouldn't have..." The scout started, cut off as Daryl shook his head and let out a snort as he set the trunk down.

"Nah, not yer fault." The hunter ducked his head down, bringing his thumb up to bite on as he shifted his weight from foot to foot in nervousness. "I, uh... I liked th' tour, really. No one's ev'r... ev'r taken th' time ta do somethin' like that fer me b'fore. Nev'r been somewhere like this b'fore. Was real interestin'. Jus'... couldn't get ma worry ov'r Maggie from ma head. Don't want her ta go th' same way when she gives birth, alone, still missin' her husband."

Wide blue-green eyes blinked at him in surprise before softening with a tender expression that was quickly covered with a smile. "Oh. Oh! Don't worry, Daryl. We'll be there for Maggie, and so will Enid. And we have people to help. She won't be alone, and she certainly won't die. And she'll be thrilled with that crib, though it's going to be a pain to get that back!" A gloved hand was placed on the hunter's bicep in a reassuring pat that lingered maybe a moment too long before Jesus looked at him with another grin. "And I'm really glad you liked the tour. I did read about more of the grounds too, so I still have other tidbits as we go around, if you want to still hear them that is. Either way..."

Now Jesus was the one shifting nervously and Daryl couldn't help but to watch him curiously as the man dug into one of the pockets of his trench coat. "I, uh, I got this for you." The scout said as he pulled out a pin and held it out to the hunter. Reaching out to take it, the hunter studied it, unable to help the smirk that lifted one side of his lips up in a crooked smile. Reading the message of "I visited Mount Vernon, Home of George Washington!" he huffed out a soft laugh before putting it on his vest.

"Thanks," he said shyly, ducking his head once more. "Let's go get th' rest o' th' stuff. We'll need ta get 'nother vehicle or a trailer or somethin'. It's been a good run, an' we want ta take back all we c'n."

"That's a good idea. There were some vehicles by the visitor's center, some of them were pretty big. We can see if any of them still work, load them up. Let's finish loading this, then go see what else we can find. Then we can go through the rest of the grounds." Even as he spoke, Jesus had a wide smile on his face, eyes lingering on the pin now on the left shoulder of the winged vest.

Daryl nodded once with the plan, meeting the scout's eyes briefly, his cheeks flushed, before heading back to the mansion to gather up the next trunk. The two of them worked together in a companionable silence, and it didn't take long before they had the van packed to the brim with everything from the mansion. "Not gonna be able ta fit anythin' else. Let's go look at findin' somethin' else ta help."

The two of them started to walk back toward the visitor center, leaving their packed van where it sat, and they were almost to the doors when Daryl paused, heading to follow a small path behind the building. "This way, I thought I saw somethin'." The scout easily followed the hunter, and they both grinned on seeing the trucks parked behind the building. Obviously, the place was a museum and had restoration done to it, and they'd had a few trucks parked for use in hauling supplies and materials. It didn't take too long to get into the back of the building and find the keys along with extra supplies they could use for building and repairs. Taking one of the U-haul like trucks they found keys for, that had been recently filled with gas before the apocalypse, they drove their new vehicle back to their van.

"Alright, which way next? If we head to the north, the blacksmith shop is there, along with a few other buildings like the storehouse. Heading south is the stables, and then we'll have to drive to the wharf and farm. I'm not sure where the beekeeping area is, it's not on the public map." Jesus said, looking over the map again. "And, if you want, we can visit Washington's tomb and the memorial for the enslaved workers. Those are south too."

"North then. Let's gather up all we can b'fore we do more sightseein'. 'ppreciate it, though," Daryl said in a quiet grunt, parking the truck next to the van and hopping out of the vehicle. He didn't see the wide grin Jesus gave him as the scout followed him, and the two trekked back across the estate's paths toward the mansion and the North Lane to the buildings they planned to loot.

The first building they came across was labelled as the "Gardener's House" and when Jesus opened the door, Daryl seemed surprised at the wooden fence barrier inside. "Th' hell? They let ya walk around in th' big house, but not in th' little ones?"

"Well they don't want you to touch everything and steal something. Not that that's going to stop us, is it?" Jesus replied with a grin, hopping over the railing to check out the [displayed trunk and chest](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1uzs5Gx6AjxfeMZ_g0qRehu9aXEZcMZ6Y). There were things in it, looking like it was full, but there was a prop underneath to make it look full. Pulling that out, Jesus grinned. "It's so handy of them to give us ready to pack trucks to take everything out though, isn't it?" He started tucking empty jugs, botanical books, watering can and flowerpots into the trunk and small chest, even as Daryl joined him, snatching the straw hat and long coats from the hooks and heading into the bedroom to snag the much less fancy bedding.

The two worked well together and had everything useful packed up in a short time and they hauled the trunk and chest out onto the lane and back to the vehicles. The back and forth was tiring, but necessary as they didn't have any other way to transport everything. Pausing before heading back, Daryl frowned. "We should take one of th' empty trunks, jus' in case. Can't always expect ta have everything' we need fer packin'."

A quick agreement and the two were heading back up the Northern lane to the next building, an empty trunk between them. Setting it down as they went to look in the next building, the salt house, they both blinked. "Are you kidding me? How has no one ever looted this place yet? It's like a treasure trove!" Jesus asked in an incredulous tone, looking over the building that also doubled as a storage house. Inside were barrels, old wooden plows, thick rope, a large wooden chest, extra tools, and even an extra blacksmith bellows.

Daryl let out another huff of amusement at the comment before stepping in to start removing everything -- it was all useful. "Let's get goin' an' get this stuff packed up. Maggie's gonna be thrilled when we get back home." A hum of agreement from Jesus was all he got in response as the other man moved to help him. Perhaps the scout wasn't so bad, Daryl mused to himself, determined to at least attempt to be friendlier with the other man.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outbuildings, Blacksmiths, and appreciation.

Hauling all the barrels and supplies from the storehouse was already starting to fill up their new truck, but there was plenty of space left. Daryl wasn't wrong, Maggie was going to be thrilled with the haul they brought back, even if the other places they went were empty. But Jesus had a feeling that they'd come back with plenty even from the other places they were intending to hit. It had also been one of the most fun trips he'd ever taken for scavenging, after the initial meeting with Daryl and Rick. Maybe more so, because he wasn't being punched in the face and hit with a car door.

The peace and ease of tensions between himself and the hunter was also helpful, and improved the scouts mood, ever since they had finished with the mansion. Daryl had seemed to open up a little bit, and Jesus planned to push that for all he could. He wanted to get to know the hunter better. Heading back to the northern lane to the next hopefully profitable building that the map called the 'spinning room', Jesus nudged Daryl's shoulder with his own, with the thought of getting to know the man in mind. But the best way to do that, he'd found, was to open up with some information about himself. "Hey, if you find any paints or art supplies anywhere as we go to all the places we're supposed to hit, would you grab them for me?"

Daryl blinked and gave the scout a quizzical look. "Art supplies? What do ya need those fer?"

"Well, everyone has something they enjoy doing, and I enjoy painting. And I've not had any chance to do so since the start of the apocalypse. Honestly, I miss the torpedo factory, and my room. I left all my supplies there, but Old Town was so full of people I don't know that I'll ever be able to go back," the scout explained, frowning slightly. Seeing the confused look on the hunter's face, the scout sighed softly and explained. "I lived just outside Washington DC, in Alexandria, the town, not just the little safe zone you guys found. Inside Alexandria was an area called "Old Town" which still had some cobblestone streets from when it was originally settled by the colonists. At the end of King Street, right on the water was the 'Torpedo Factory' which was an old World War two torpedo factory. Later, the city bought a bunch of buildings from the government and they eventually turned the factory into an Art Center. Artists who have earned a degree in art and recently graduated can apply to earn a studio there and extra funding for a few months. I'd just gotten my space when the world ended."

A soft hum of interest was the only response for a bit as they approached the empty trunk they'd left by the storeroom and picked it up to hopefully pack in the spinning room. Finally, a soft, almost shy reply came from Daryl. "I'll keep an eye out fer ya. Any paint's good?" A blue eye peeked at the scout from behind long bangs before glancing away.

Grinning, Jesus nodded. "Yeah. I'll take anything now. Even crayons." The scout's heart beat a little faster at the soft huff of amusement that was the hunter's usual form of laughter, before they were forced to focus on their current task, opening up the door to the spinning room. "I don't know if anyone knows how to use all of this... but if we ever get a chance to raid a library, we need to get books on the basics of spinning and weaving," the scout said, wide eyed at the equipment inside the room.

Daryl simply nodded, just as stunned at the wealth of supplies and practical items as they looked over the clean and tight room. The [large loom](https://drive.google.com/open?id=18LsRZZWib21FpNrTZSiOz-sA3YDURJJr) and [spinning wheels](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1cTI_ynpIzh08GrP-vqGx6nSyB80nw3vI) already meant that once someone put them to use, they could start to make their own clothing again. Fabric and clothing could still be found, but after so long it was starting to be threadbare, weak, and moth-eaten. It wasn't an immediate problem, but this would make Hilltop that much stronger, with a fix for the long term. Along the wall hung already coiled thread and fibers, a few baskets full of what looked like cotton and wool but seemed too synthetic to take and another machine that they weren't sure what it was but clearly went with everything else could also be found. "Let's get th' small stuff out, then we c'n come back an' figure out how ta dismantle th' loom ta take. Unless ya want ta try ta knock th' wall out, but that sucker looks heavier'n hell ta move intact."

Nodding in agreement, Jesus took a moment to run his fingers over the linen fabric that was half woven on the loom as a display. "We'll have to remove all of this, but it's amazing isn't it? That we look back to our past to make our future now. That they figured out how to turn wool and plants into this. All with the equipment in this tiny room."

Daryl let out a tiny grunt of agreement as he hefted up a spinning wheel, taking it outside. The scout quickly stacked the baskets inside of each other, grabbing the coils of thread and yarn from the shelf to toss in the top basket. With the two of them working together, despite the hard work of hauling so many supplies and ancient machines to the vehicles, it went quickly. Dismantling the loom took a bit of trial and error, but eventually, they were moving the heavy equipment in pieces carried between them.

"Hold up, put it down," Daryl warned as they were carrying the last piece of the loom from the north land to the bowling green, his eyes over the scout's shoulder as he walked backwards. A quick glance over his shoulder as he followed instructions didn't help Jesus to see what it was Daryl saw, but he could hear it now that we was listening. A handful of walkers coming up the south lane toward them, but still far enough off to not be much of a problem.

Daryl's crossbow was out and in his hands as soon as the part of the loom was on the ground, and it wasn't long before arrows were flying. None of the walkers came near them, the closest dropping in front of the mansion. The scout already had his knives out, and listening intently, couldn't hear anything else and went jogging forward to helpfully collect the arrows for the hunter. Returning with half a dozen bloody arrows, he kept watch as Daryl quickly wiped them down and put them back into the quiver under the crossbow. "I wonder where they came from?" Jesus mused as he looked around the landscape for any more danger. "The farm's to the south, so maybe there's a gap there? Or not a fence? Either way, we're starting to draw them, but it's far enough away it takes time. And it doesn't seem like there's many, despite the city being so near."

Throwing the crossbow across his back again, Daryl shrugged as he moved to pick up the rest of the loom. "Might be 'cause it's been s'quiet here. Nothin' ta draw attention 'til now. So th' walkers moved ta join herds and headed elsewhere." Considering that, Jesus shrugged and nodded. It was as good an explanation as anything else, and they had work to do.

The two of them worked together, packing the spinning equipment into the truck and returning to the north lane, looting the overseer's quarters with a similar swiftness as they had the gardener's house. After, they took a quick detour into the slave quarters they had found earlier when they'd been looking through the gardens and greenhouse and gift shop, and took everything that might have had any use. They still had an empty trunk afterward, having found enough items to use for packing, utilizing the baskets from the spinning house for bedding, clothing, and other lightweight items. The trunk would be a better bet for packing up the blacksmith's.

As they arrived at the small building, Daryl noticed a box outside, and peeking into it, he let out a huff of laughter. "Got some coal ta take back. Little bitty pieces, but it's still fuel."

Jesus offered a grin before turning as he heard a thud coming from the building. The shop was completely closed up, but a walker was pressed against one of the closed windows. It wore a tattered apron and clawed against the thick glass, and the scout frowned. Pulling one of his knives, he moved with Daryl toward the door, nodding as the hunter opened it, taking the walker out with a swift stab to the head as it lunged outward. "I'm so sorry," he whispered quietly to the walker, having realized that it was one of the blacksmiths.

The hunter, on the other hand, had already dismissed the walker from his mind and was looking into the blacksmith's with an awed expression. "C'n we just bring Earl here ta work, instead?" It was an entirely working, functional [blacksmith's shop](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1C3kX94NJtmA7LzzbUvt6AAq0Mpfx9-iq), with tools galore, metal items that had been made and repaired -- horseshoes, hinges, farming tools -- and bars of metal, mostly iron, some steel, propped against one wall. Bellows and an anvil, a vice, multiple tongs and tools, small lengths of chain for view.

Attention captured by the awe in the hunter's voice, Jesus looked inside, blinking in surprise. Though why he felt surprised, he wasn't sure, as the rest of the place had been a veritable treasure trove of goods, and this building was no exception. "If only we were closer, I'd say yet. Too bad we can't transport the whole building!" He smiled at Daryl before taking the effort to move the walker out of the way, lingering a moment more before moving to help Daryl pack up everything.

It took quite a bit of time to move a lot of the heavy metal and tools to the truck, and it was early evening when they finished. Still, Daryl had wanted to get as much done as possible, so Jesus pointed out the buildings they hadn't hit yet, the servant's hall and kitchen that were separate from the mansion but attached with a walkway on either side. It didn't take long to loot those, as neither had much in them other than reproduction items and staged furniture to resemble what would have been there in the 1700's. Still, the two felt accomplished, and Jesus couldn't help but to poke at Daryl's side as they settled on the steps up the gateway of the ha-ha wall to eat. "There's a lot here, and we're still not done yet. Maggie gave us three days, and I don't know if we'll make that. We might have to go back and unload before coming back out for the other areas. Even with the truck, I don't know how much more we'll be able to fit after this. And if the farm and the gristmill have as much useful items?"

Daryl offered a shy smile as he twitched away from the scout's prodding fingers. "It's good ta be able ta bring s'much back. But I'd like ta finish everything. If we have ta go back ta unload, that's fine, but I want ta see what else we can get too. Could radio Maggie, see what she says. She'd prob'ly let us finish if we had ta come back from too large a haul." It was a proud gleam in his eyes that they'd managed to find so much for the community, and Jesus smiled in return, blushing slightly at how beautiful the hunter looked with that shy grin.

Putting thought to action, Jesus rose to his feet and jogged to the van, pulling out the long range radio again, pulling it to his lips. "Maggie, this is Jesus. Are you there?" There was a long pause before an answer came, time that he spent studying the hunter slyly from the corner of his eye as the other man ate. He knew that Maggie kept the radio near her, just in case, when they were out on runs, and her voice came over the airways after a few minutes.

"Jesus, everything alright?" There was concern in her voice, even though she knew that he wouldn't have waited for her to respond if there was truly a problem.

"Yeah, Daryl and I still aren't finished with Mount Vernon, much less any of the other spots. This place is amazing, and we have so much stuff! We found another truck to pack things into, so we'll be coming back with two vehicles, filled to the brim. We should be done tomorrow. If you're alright with it, we're going to bring what we have from here back to Hilltop tomorrow, then head back out to hit the farm and gristmill and the area in town."

Both of them could clearly hear the smile in her voice as she responded. "That sounds great, especially if you have all those plants. They'll need to get some care sooner than later. Ya'll stay safe, and we'll see you tomorrow."

Wishing her a good night, Jesus put the radio away, before glancing at the hunter again. "Alright, so are we camping out here again?" he asked, glancing up at the fading light.

Daryl shook his head. "Need ta go indoors t'night." He pointed upward at the clouds forming on the horizon. "Cloud cast, an' it's gettin' a bit colder. C'n smell th' rain comin'. We c'n stay in one o' th' outbuildings we've already checked."

The pair gathered up their gear, made sure the vehicles were locked and they had the keys with them, and headed back toward the mansion. Jesus knew that Daryl wouldn't be comfortable sleeping in the mansion itself, so he directed them toward the first smaller outbuilding, the gardener's house, for them to bed down for the night. The easily settled their bedrolls on the floor, and there was still firewood in the fireplace. After a short discussion, they decided to light the fire. After all, with rain and evening coming, the smoke wouldn't be very noticeable.

It was as they settled down to sleep with the small bit of furniture left shoved against the wall to make room, that Jesus spoke once more. "Daryl? What do you think of this place?" He was interested to know what the hunter really thought, and turned to gaze at the man, his eyes tracing over fire-lit skin.

The hunter was silent for a long moment, lying on his back with one arm tucked behind his head to stare at the ceiling. "Honestly? I hated it, at first. Too big, too fancy, felt oppressive. But... ya changed that. Pointed out th' little things, th' practical, th' hard work, th' stuff 'bout fam'ly. I don't mind it. Bit in awe o' everythin' ta be honest." He fell quiet again, before looking at Jesus with a soft gaze, one corner of his mouth turned up in a shy smile. "Thanks, prick. I enjoyed th' tour."

Jesus grinned, his heart thumping so loudly at the response and look that he was certain Daryl would be able to hear it. Taking a chance, he reached across the space between them to rest his hand on the other man's arm, squeezing gently and secretly squeeing internally in delight at the response and the feel of hard muscles beneath his fingers. "You're very welcome, Mr. Dixon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're starting to get closer to each other! I think it's cute, but I'm very interested in knowing what you all think, so I would very much appreciate comments! In my own headcanon (again, mostly coming from my recent trip to our capitol), Jesus was an artist. I've always enjoyed having a soft side to characters, and that's a side that I've always enjoyed in other stories, and so I utilized here. Sort of my birthday present to myself :)
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think -- Constructive criticism helps me write better, and comments in general just inspire me to write more and keep pleasing everyone!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stables and Tombs.

The previous night it had been the pattering of rain on the roof of the building they were in that sent Daryl to sleep eventually, after his mind had spent far too long lingering on the touch of Jesus's hand on his arm. Waking up in the morning to the scent of lingering rain from the night before, and faint birdsong filtering through the walls, Daryl stretched with a grunt before turning his head to look at Jesus. The hunter couldn't help the gentle curl of smile on his lips and amused huff as he saw the sleeping scout. Soft snores came from the man, the hair that fell across his lips shifting with each breath and snore, until the scout shifted and swiped at his nose where the hair was tickling him.

Sitting up, the hunter reached over to nudge Jesus's shoulder, a bit hard than he meant as he pushed down the warm feelings watching the scout created. "Hey. It's mornin'. We've got shit ta finish, an' then more ta collect."

"Hmm... What!" Jesus jumped awake quickly at the nudge, one hand coming up in a fist in front of him while the other grabbed for his knife, eyes wide for a moment before realizing they were safe in the building they'd camped in for the night. Running a weary hand briefly across his face as he relaxed, finally registering what Daryl had said, the scout shifted to pull his hair up. "Was that really necessary? I thought something was wrong."

The archer grimaced slightly at the reaction. "Sorry," he grunted, turning away to hide his embarrassment. "Didn't think I'd shook ya that hard." Grabbing his pack, he focused solely on rolling his bedroll back up and putting what few things had been left out of his pack back in it, trying to ignore the tingle on the back of his neck that meant someone was watching him, finding it entirely too easy to imagine Jesus's large eyes staring at him. Eventually he heard a sigh and the scout moving around as well, similarly packing up.

"Daryl, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. Let's get to work." Jesus quickly got himself ready, pulling his hair back into a sloppy bun as he watched the hunter avoid eye contact on the way out of the building. It didn't stop Daryl from catching the small frown on the other man's face from the corner of his eye, however.

The pair of them quickly made their way to the storage house, which was as much of a windfall as the other buildings had been, full of more weaving items, baskets, old fashioned tools, linens, scales, and so on. Having fallen into a good routine on their visit, it didn't take the pair long to pack all the items possible into barrels and baskets and haul them down to the trucks to back up. The smoke house yielded some old meat hooks that they might find use of, and finally they made their way to the stables -- the last area on the map of this grounds that they might find useful, unless they could find the beehives.

Dragging open the door of one building across the stable, Daryl stopped in puzzlement, looking over the contraption he'd found inside. "What th'hell is this?" he asked, looking over the [odd vehicle](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1CvbGNgEEo0-UZS5DgRIBRu0UENXsPKdo). It had two large wagon wheels set close together with a small platform between them with poles stretching forward to hook behind a horse. But on the platform was attached a simple wooden chair, the kind you'd find at a kitchen table. The mismatch of items to build it seemed a bit surreal.

"It's a riding chair," Jesus said, peering over the hunter's shoulder. "It fit better along narrow country lanes, and sometimes carriages were taxed by the number of wheels, so this could save money for a single person."

"It's stupid. At that point, why not jus' ride th'damn horse? Then ya have no wheels ta tax, an' no stupid cart ta haul or get stuck somewhere." Daryl huffed at the sense of 'privilege' the item gave off and turned toward the stable, stomping away from the silly item.

"Should I assume that you don't want to take this back for Maggie, then?" the scout teased behind him.

Daryl gave nothing more than a derisive grunt in response as he opened one of the doors to the stables. Inside the tight stalls, they found pitchforks and wheelbarrows, buckets and saddlebags and some English style saddles and tack. Quickly they gathered up everything of use -- everything except the riding chair and other carriages they found in the area -- and hauled the items back to their trucks, tucking everything else inside.

"I think we've cleared every building on the property," Jesus offered as they shoved the last wheelbarrow that was piled with saddles into the back of their newest truck. "We've a little room left if we find the beehives, but before we go searching, would you like to finish the tour? We can go see the tombs, if you'd like." The scout tucked some hair that had fallen out of his bun behind his ear as he spoke, and backed away, giving Daryl some space. The offer seemed earnest, and Daryl had been interested in some of the estate earlier, though he didn't see what use or interest going to see some graves would be. But the scout had seemed so happy to play tour guide before, and the thought of Jesus happy and smiling made Daryl's heart thump a bit more wildly in his chest.

Shutting the back of the truck up and securing it, the hunter let out a sigh, ducking his head behind his hair for a moment. "A'ight, show me what else there's ta see here." He made sure the vehicles were locked tight and that they had the keys before pulling his crossbow from his shoulders and ready to fire just in case. It didn't take long for the pair to make their way back down the south lane, and break off, following a path to the left. Down a small set of stairs was a [brick building](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1v-0_N9BZU0OYwjCtIp-AG87QToIzV-Zx), not very tall and only slightly wider than it was tall and overgrown with trees and plants. A decaying wooden door sat in the middle of the brick wall.

"This is the Old Tomb. Originally, there were twenty two Washington family members buried here, but George Washington asked in his will to have a larger tomb built because of the repairs needed to this one. Construction didn't start on the new tomb until 1830, when the deterioration of this tomb became very bad. Their bodies were moved to the new tomb in 1831, after the initial construction of the tomb was complete."

Daryl listened as Jesus spoke, trying to imagine knowing that his body would be going into a small building to rot and decay and shook his head. "Nah, if anything happens ta me, I'd rather be properly ended then burned. Spread my ashes in th'woods. Can't imagine being put away like this."

The observant hunter turned to the steps again, seeing another set leading back a different way, but couldn't help but notice the full-body shiver that seemed to go through the scout, nor the way his face twisted into a pained grimace in response to Daryl's own words. "I'd rather not imagine it at all, thanks, and I really don't want to imagine your death or funeral." Jesus shook his head and headed up the other set of steps, seemingly still trying to shake off the thought.

"What? Ev'ryone dies 'ventually. That's jus' how I'd rather be taken care of. Same as b'fore, jus now we die from th'walkers more than anythin'. Why not have someone know m'last wishes?" It was the more than Daryl usually said as he followed the scout up the steps, but Jesus kept shaking his head, more and more forcefully until he finally turned and confronted the archer nose to nose as he stood one step higher than the other.

"Because I don't want to imagine my life without you in it!" Jesus's shoulders heaved as he took in panicked breaths, his eyes wide as he realized what he'd just blurted out. Daryl couldn't tear his own gaze from the scout's as he felt his cheeks heat up, the sentence echoing in his head. What did he mean? Daryl was nothing, just a scarred and rough redneck, good for nothing but hunting. And he'd been teaching at Hilltop, so he wasn't the only one who could do that anymore, and the others would only get better with practice. Sure his family might miss him, for a bit, but he wasn't anyone important, so why would the bearded man be so upset at the thought of Daryl gone?

Although, if he considered the thought, Daryl rejected the idea of Jesus being gone just as much as Jesus rejected the thought of Daryl's death. Unable and unwilling to come to any conclusions, the hunter ducked his head, hiding his face behind his hair as his hand rose unconsciously to his mouth, his teeth biting viciously at his thumb. Turning away, Daryl shook his head and let out an annoyed grunt. "Let's forget th'tour. Check th'other way fer th'bees, then taking ev'rythin' back."

Before Jesus could say anything, the hunter had turned around, heading back toward the North Lane as quickly as he could, hoping that the bees would be somewhere beyond there, rather than near the tombs. Daryl almost wished they hadn't come here, despite their great haul of goods they'd found. If they hadn't, he wouldn't be forced to explore feelings he'd shoved deep down to ignore months ago. And this time, he wasn't doing so well at shoving those feelings back down.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bees and apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting this. I've been trying to do a chapter a week, though that doesn't seem to work as often as I'd like. The holidays have already been kicking my butt, and for a bit, I think I'd written myself into a corner. Still, I hope everyone that celebrates Thanksgiving had a great one, and without further adieu, here is the next chapter!

He hadn't meant to blurt that out. But when Daryl had been talking about how he wanted to be taken care of when he died, Jesus had barely been able to keep himself from yelling at the man to shut up, _shut up_ , **_shut up_**! And despite the hunter being a very practical person in his views, Jesus simply couldn't handle the emotional upheaval with the images Daryl's words had evoked in his head.

When Daryl stalked off, the scout couldn't figure out what had set him off. He knew the other man didn't think very highly of himself, thought that no one would miss him or need him if he weren't there. Was it just because Jesus had professed an attachment to him that he wanted to think on, or something else? Either way, there was enough death in the world already, so seeing tombs probably hadn't been the best idea for the tour, even if that was really all that was left to see of Mount Vernon.

And so, Jesus lingered for a moment, letting the hunter get a head start before trailing after him, just far enough back to give Daryl some space but still see what he did and where he went. After all, being alone when there was a potential for walkers to appear, no matter how peaceful this place seemed most of the time, was never a good idea. As he contemplated how to get back into the hunter's good graces, or at least back on neutral terms to start over, he watched how Daryl went about his search for the beehives.

While it wasn't a forest by any means, the previously landscaped grounds had grown wild, and Daryl in the wild was always awe-inspiring to watch. The hunter stalked back toward the upper garden, his footsteps growing quieter the closer he got until it was like he was stalking prey, and in the case of looking for bees, he sort of was.

Jesus lingered near [the fence](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1-PbSOofKNdwZD-h7hpCl9omPfh6zD5_k) that separated the garden from the bowling green and pathways to the main house, watching what Daryl did. The hunter stood quietly on a pathway, watching around, until he'd pinpointed a bee working hard. Patience in this form wasn't the scout's strong suit, and so he found himself fidgeting as Daryl stood stock still, only moving to follow the bee he'd decided was his guide when it flew too far to easily keep track of.

Daryl moved around the garden, from one side to another, but eventually started following the insect out of the garden and toward a path that went out of bounds of the usual visitors' areas. Glad to finally be moving again, the scout followed at a distance, eyes widening as he rounded a corner to see multiple wooden beehives. Taking a deep breath and hoping he'd given the hunter enough space, Jesus approached the other man slowly.

"That's... a lot of bees. Do you know how to get any of them back?"

Shaking his head, Daryl pointed toward a small structure. "Dunno. But don' disturb 'em if ya don' wanna get stung. Might be some replacements or such in there ta take back. We'll have ta figure out how ta set up for bees, then we c'n come back and gather up anythin' else."

Nodding his agreement at the idea, Jesus carefully made his way around the edge of the beehives toward the shed to see what was inside. Inside were plenty of tools, extra bee suits, and even a few more hives for them to take back with them. It was a good start and would get them well on their way. The two worked together in silence as the gathered up their finds and headed back to the vehicles. It didn't take long for them to pack everything up, and both van and truck were filled almost to the point of bursting.

Looking over Daryl's form, Jesus hesitantly tried to fill the silence, offering a smile as if the outburst earlier hadn't happened, no matter how his heart hammered in his chest. "Maggie knows we're bringing a lot back, but I bet she's going to freak when she sees just how much useful things we found!"

Daryl nodded, biting at his thumb, but couldn't help but to smirk around the nail between his teeth and huff a soft chuckle. The scout's smile softened in return, reaching out to gently nudge the hunter's shoulder. "Let's head back, so we can get back out to get another haul. We still have the farm and wharf, distillery and granary to get to, after all. And then the other places. I..." Jesus trailed off a moment, biting his lip before charging forward. "I'm sorry about before. Tombs and cemeteries aren't exactly interesting places to see in a world full of walking dead. I didn't mean to get all depressing. No matter how much I don't want to think of a friend's death," and no matter how Daryl thought of him, Jesus would always consider the hunter a friend, "you're right that someone should know your wishes for if something happens."

The scout had looked down at his feet as he spoke, twisting his hands together nervously, and only caught the archer's reaction from his peripheral vision. Daryl's head had jerked up and that obvious tell of his started again as he picked at the skin around his thumbnail with his teeth. Jesus swore the hunter would wind up with a bloody and unusable thumb at the rate he was going, so distance was probably a good thing at this point. Brushing off and trying to put his very one-sided conversation out of mind, he looked up and smiled. "I'll drive the van back if you can get the truck. Let's head back to Hilltop and get something to eat before we come back to the area."

He barely saw the nod of agreement before he climbed into the driver's seat of the van, reaching down to grab Daryl's bag and offer it out the window to the other man. Watching as the older man took it and settled into the truck, it wasn't long before the two were on their way back to Hilltop, all the while Jesus trying to come up with new ways to get the hunter to open up and get to know him better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how interesting it'll be, but I did go back and do a few edits in previous chapters. I fixed a few spelling and grammatical issues, though I'm sure there are still some around, but the biggest thing I did was added in some links within the story to pictures I took when I visited Mount Vernon, so in some cases you can get a visual representation of what I'm describing. I've also used a virtual tour you can find at www.mountvernon.org to added bits of history and to help remind myself of places and things I didn't remember or didn't get to on the tour we attended. If you like history, I highly recommend it -- this site is very well done in honoring and teaching about the history of Mount Vernon and the Washington family!
> 
> Please leave comments -- I love getting them, and I would certainly love to hear feedback of what you think, or any constructive criticism that might help to improve my writing!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return to Hilltop and a bit of getting to know you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so much history in this one, but... I'm sort of happy with this chapter. Back to Maggie and Hilltop and a bit of bonding! :)

The drive back to Hilltop was uneventful, but Daryl couldn't stop thinking of what Jesus had said. How he'd apologized when he didn't need do, called Daryl a friend. The way those words had sent a rush of warmth through his chest. It felt sort of like what it had when he'd first realized his family truly trusted him. But it also felt... more.

It was confusing. And Daryl had spent most of his life pushing feelings away. Feelings just got him hurt, let him hope for things only to be laughed at by his brother and dad, to have the hopes beaten out of him. And this feeling was something they would have killed him over. Remembering that made him want to push these feelings out of his head again, until he remembered that his dad and brother weren't here, and that his family wouldn't care.

It was a constant circle of thoughts that simply gave him a headache. So he was content to push the thoughts away again, and follow the van back to Hilltop. With the thoughts that had been constantly swirling in his head, the trip had seemed incredibly short, and it didn't take long for the gates to open and allow the two vehicles in. As Daryl drove the truck inside Hilltop and pulled up beside the van Jesus had, he could see a large number of people already waiting to help unload. The scout must have contacted Maggie about their arrival so they could unload quicker.

Turning the engine off, Daryl climbed out of the truck, approaching Maggie with a shy smile, hugging her when she came to him. "We got somethin' special for ya," he said quietly, taking her hand and leading her to the back of the van. 

Following willingly with a laugh, Maggie shook her head. "Ya didn't need ta get anythin' for me, Daryl. Just bringin' back the stuff for Hilltop is plenty!"

Jesus was already at the back of the van opening it up, shooting a wide grin at the woman. "Yeah, but Daryl insisted when he saw them. We had to bring them back for you." Swinging the doors wide open, he pointed to the luxurious crib that was just inside the doors, still stuffed with other bedding.

The hunter was treated to the sight of Maggie raising a hand to her mouth and a tear slipping down one cheek before she spun around and threw her arms around the hunter's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. "Daryl, it's beautiful! I love it!"

Awkwardly returning the hug, Daryl managed a gruff, "'twern't no big deal," before stepping back, ducking his head down to hide the shy smile at how pleased Maggie was and the faint blush on his cheeks behind long bangs. His thumb came up to his lips as he gnawed at the skin around his nail and added, "There's a chair for ya in there too. 'Sgot a fan ya can move wit' ya feet."

His cheeks only grew more red as Maggie gushed her thanks again as the pieces of furniture were unloaded from the truck. It wasn't Maggie that was setting off the heat in his cheeks, though, so much as the fond grin he caught Jesus shooting at him from behind the pregnant woman. 

Pulling away, he let out a soft grunt, moving to help unload the trucks. "Gotta get all th' plants unloaded. They pro'ly need some water by now. Sun. And we should get them inta th' garden." Hiding his red cheeks beneath long hair and turned away to busy himself with the unloading, Daryl did all he could to ignore the familiar and steady gaze he could feel on his back.

_________________

It took a a good two hours to unload both vehicles, and not just Maggie but many of the Hilltop residents were over the moon with what had been brought back. Earl had thanked both Daryl and Jesus at least four times each for the tools, materials, and fuel (the tiny bits of coal apparently was one of the best sources of fuel to keep a blacksmith's furnace hot).

There sheer number and variety of plants brought back had the gardeners and Maggie ecstatic, especially once they heard that there was more left behind that could be gathered up later. Most of the fruit brought back could be planted for later while going back for some of the trees would fix a more immediate need.

The weaving and spinning equipment had a people scratching their heads. They didn't have anyone that knew how to work with them, but the hunter and scout promised to at least try to find a book that might help. Perhaps after the other areas connected to Mount Vernon, when they were supposed to check the town of Fort Belvoir, they could find a bookshop or a library that might help. But the tools and supplies brought back for the craft was certainly hopeful.

The beehives had a similar issue as with the cloth making. No one had any real experience, just one person that had had an interest before and had visited beekeepers and watched videos before the world ended for fun. They handed the supplies over to him with another promise to try to find some sort of helpful book somewhere.

All the other various items of bedding, barrels, baskets, tack, and what all only helped to further supply the Hilltop. This one trip had clearly gone a long way to strengthening the community, and Daryl couldn't get back out fast enough, if only to get away from the constant gratitude that caused smug grins on a certain ninja-prick. Smug grins that Daryl couldn't help but flush from.

"Hey! Daryl, slow down!" The hunter paused only a moment as he climbed into the truck, and was swiftly joined by the bearded scout. "While you were helping unload, I got us some new supplies, just in case we're out for a few days again. New jerky, a few granola bars, and snagged some of the veggies and fruit for us too."

Settling behind the steering wheel, Daryl found himself gnawing on his thumb again, grunting a faint "Thanks," around it. Cautiously, he peeked through his long bangs at the man that sat beside him in the passenger seat. "Not takin' th' van too?"

Jesus shrugged. "We could. But we don't know how intact the other areas will be. We got lucky at the mansion, and I don't know how lucky we'll be again. Besides, I'd rather not get separated if anything goes wrong. Worst case, we can try to find another vehicle if we get too much again."

Offering a shrug and a nod of acceptance to the plan, Daryl started the truck, pulling around to the gate and waiting for it to open back up. He found himself tensing as a warm sensation swept through him at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. "Daryl, we did good today. Even if everything else is a bust, this will hold us for a long while."

Stiff at the touch, the hunter panicked slightly, and couldn't help but off nothing more than an affirmative grunt even as he shrugged Jesus's hand from his shoulder. Watching from the corner of his eye, his heart sank as he saw the pained expression cross Jesus's face before it was swiftly replaced with a soft smile. 

Why did that expression bother him so much? It had been there so briefly, he might have simply imagined it. He doubted he had, however, and chewed on his lower lip as he tried to figure out how to make up for it. He could start a conversation, get to know the ninja a bit better. Might cause a heart attack, because Daryl wasn't exactly known for talking, but Jesus certainly loved to hear himself talk, it seemed.

Biting hard enough on his lip that he tasted blood, the archer blurted out, "What'd ya paint?" having focused on the last thing he'd learned about the other man for this purpose. His cheeks were bright red as he stared stubbornly out the windshield to the road ahead of them, not even looking at Jesus from his peripheral vision, already embarrassed to have even started a conversation, though he still couldn't figure out why.

"What did I paint?" Jesus's voice was colored with surprise that he'd been asked anything at all, before turning almost eager as he answered the question. "Well, I dabbled a bit in modern and abstract, but mostly I liked painting landscapes and nature scenes. I liked the play of dark and light on water and through trees. Did a few sort of... fantasy forests, I guess? But mostly I liked to go to the gardens and paint the flowers or the ponds, or whatever. Rock Creek Park was beautiful to paint." There was a pause, before he added softly, "I think you would have liked it, maybe. If I get the supplies, I'll paint you something."

Daryl didn't say anything, silent for a long while before he glanced at the scout. Licking his lips a moment, he said just as softly, "I... uh... I'd like that." His chest warmed at the fond and truly happy smile he got in response.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pioneer Farm and the Wharf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I toured Mount Vernon, I never had a chance to take a tour to the Pioneer Farm, nor to the Wharf. So, some descriptions may be glossed. The Virtual tour does a good job, but still doesn't compete with my own experiences!

The ride had been a bit awkward between them, but Jesus had been thrilled with the little conversation they'd had. He loved talking about his art, and watching Daryl blush in response had made the scout both have to bite his lip to refrain from cooing at the other man (he was so adorable sometimes!) and fight down the spark of arousal the sight of a red ear peeking through longish hair had sent through him.

Still, eventually, their conversation had turned to more practical things. Jesus had taken hold of the conversation once Daryl had clearly been lost as to how to continue once they'd exhausted the topic of art, and he had appreciated the hunter's attempt at interest in a subject he clearly had little for. Knowing the gruff man was much better focusing on what was in front of him, Jesus had asked about where they were heading next of their three other chosen spots.

"Back ta Mount Vernon. Th'farm an' wharf weren't far from there, an' th'rest are on th'way back home. Thinkin' if we fill up too quick 'gain, we'll have less ground ta cover later on." Daryl's voice was gruff and gravelly, something Jesus always loved to listen to, but had eased into something more comfortable with the change in topic. The scout nodded in response, reaching for the map they had and pulling out the guide book from the pocket of his long leather duster once again. 

"You still got that thing?" Daryl asked, glancing over at the two things the scout held and flipped through.

Shooting a cheerful grin at the hunter, Jesus teased, "Well, technically, the farm and the gristmill and such are still parts of Mount Vernon. That means the tour isn't over! Besides, it does help to explain what everything is, and in the case of the farm, I think I remember reading something about the barn and how they went about harvesting the wheat or something. I thought it might help to know. We do better at harvesting wheat, we can start making more flour and have bread again!"

The scout found Mount Vernon on the map again and followed a path with his finger as he found the other areas they were supposed to hit. "After the farm, we'll have to go to the distillery and gristmill. Then Fort Belvoir is on the way back to Hilltop. I think you're idea's a good one. Even if we've already exceeded expectations with our first trip out! Maybe we should start looking around for other historical places to visit that are in the area. Maybe we'll find other areas just as full!"

Daryl nodded with a slight smile. It was simply one corner of his mouth twitched up slightly, but Jesus couldn't help but count it as a win. One of these days, he'd get the hunter to actually smile, maybe if fully laugh rather than those adorable huffed chuckles, like the one he released currently. "Maybe. But I don't know how well I like ya as a tour guide. Might need ta ask fer a replacement."

Letting out an obviously faked shocked gasp, Jesus held one hand to his heart. "Daryl! You wound me! And I studied for ages to know these things to show you around!" Another huffed chuckle was his reward for his over-dramatic actions, and the scout smiled again, reaching over to lightly punch the hunter's arm. "Let's get to the farm and wharf, and we'll see how things go this time around!" Turning back to the map, he helped to navigate them toward the area, skirting around the mansion and grounds to a road access to the farm.

There was a fence around it, but nothing so intimidating as with the grounds of the mansion. This was a rather simple fence that only came to waist height, functional but more decorative than anything. It was a basic farm gate blocking the road. Still, it worried the scout a bit. It wasn't much of anything to keep out the walkers, who could simply fall over the fence, get up and keep on going, and it had been oddly quiet in the mansion grounds. It could easily have been as Daryl had said -- the place had been quiet and didn't draw any walkers, and those left were drawn to the sound of the noise they'd been making -- but the open expanse seemed... oddly barren of the dead. Too good to be true, especially twice in a row.

Carefully, Daryl stopped the truck as Jesus hopped out to open up the gate. Not seeing any movement from inside the farm drawn to the sound of the truck, the scout motioned the hunter in, and it wasn't long before they were inside the farm with the truck turned around toward the open gate and the back opened and ready to be filled. Both had their weapons up, carefully searching for any walkers. 

There were few buildings on the property -- fairly open set of stables, a few slave cabins, and an impressive barn at the top of a hill with sixteen sides. A bit further off, they could see a pier sticking out into the Potomac with the end covered with a pointed roof. With a nod toward the pier, Daryl motioned his crossbow. "Let's head there firs', work our way back. 'D'rather work closer than further off."

Jesus nodded easily, eyeing the hill and the way the barn was shut before motioning for the archer to take the lead. If anything popped out, Daryl would have the better shot with the long range, which Jesus could watch his back. It didn't take long for the two to get to the wharf, only to find that it didn't have a whole lot for them to loot. 

"Well, I suppose it couldn't have all been a perfect run," Jesus quipped with a smile. They picked up a few coils of rope, settling them over their shoulders, before moving to head back. "According to the guidebook, Washington used this area as a way to send goods out and bring them back, but being a wharf, I had assumed there'd be some fishing supplies. I know the wharf was rebuilt in 1880, and restored in 1991 where it was dedicated by a visiting Queen Elizabeth II of England. Hmm, I wonder if somewhere there's a walker Queen Elizabeth? She was already old when all of this started...." Shaking his head from his musing thoughts, though he couldn't help but smile slightly at the scoff he heard from Daryl, he continued, "I suppose some visitors to the grounds arrived by boat, given the way this is set up to receive people."

"We may not've found much, but rope's still plenty useful. S'good ta start," the hunter responded in a gruff voice. "An' th'look of th' farm, there's plenty more plants ta pull up. An' different from what we've already gotten."

Jesus grinned. "I know I saw corn! And there's supposed to be wheat and maybe other grains. Legumes, I think? That's what, could be beans, peas, peanuts or something."

A shrug was his only response. After a long pause as they walked back to the truck to toss the rope inside before searching the grounds, Daryl finally offered, "Doesn't matter what it is. Still food. More options fer food is always good."

Nodding in agreement, Jesus went to the open stables, looking around the small stalls. "Some of these aren't big enough for horses. What...?" He was a little confused until he saw a shelf on one end, full of shears and combs. "Oh, sheep! Let's take these. If we ever find any sheep, they could come in handy."

Daryl snorted and headed toward the other stable. "Sheep are stupid. Prob'ly, some walkers had nice mutton dinners." He paused as he saw the large old fashioned plow that could be hooked to a horse. "Hey, get those shears put away and come help me with this."

Between the two of them, they were able to carry the plow into the truck, add in more rope, farming tools, the sheep shearing supplies. Inside the abandoned cabins, they were able to find more coarse bedding, dishes, random bits of clothing, buckets and such. Nothing super necessary, but all things that could be repurposed if needed.

It was when they were coming out of the cabin that they really looked at the barn. It wasn't on a hill, it was two stories tall. The hill was simply a ramp leading to the upper level. "That's... different. Although, what I read makes a lot more sense now," Jesus murmured.

A quiet but almost curious grunt from Daryl was all his response and the scout nodded toward the barn. "They put the wheat in there and had horses trot over it. The grain from the wheat was supposed to be beaten out by the horses' hooves. It was supposedly separated instantly, and there was something about a slatted floor. If that's the case, it would have fallen to the floor below once treaded by the horses."

Carefully opening up the barn, they found the upper area to be completely empty. The lower storage area had empty barrels, which they tugged out to the farm itself and using the tools they'd found filled the barrels what they could gather and harvest to tuck into the truck. Shutting the doors after another productive visit, the scout studied the hunter a moment before teasing, "I think you're starting to rub off on me. It's been such an easy run the past couple days that I expected that barn to be full of walkers! I'm almost getting to be as paranoid as you!"

Daryl's eyes narrowed a moment, before he grunted out harshly, "You should be paranoid. It keeps you alive." Stomping away toward the cab of the truck, the hunter never saw the flash of regret that crossed Jesus's face before he hurried to follow so they could head to their next destination.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mill and some revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to get out. The holidays kicked my butt thoroughly, then I was really sick, and then I had an issue in my personal life revolving around a comment made to me that left me very insecure about writing at all about anything that I had to sort out in my head to finally finish this chapter. Hopefully, it has been worth the wait!
> 
> There's been a lot of stops and starts in writing this chapter, so I'm a little worried that it comes across as almost OOC at times, but this is how it wrote itself, and it's not likely to be changing anytime soon. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested, you can find me on tumblr at callicocatrex!

The trip from the farm to the grist mill and distillery was a bit awkward. Daryl almost regretted the harshly snapped comment he'd made at the farm, but all Jesus's words brought to mind was the scout randomly opening a locked door and a wave of undead pouring out, too many for Daryl to keep him safe. And while he knew that the scout wasn't that stupid and could take care of himself, it seemed to be the whole issue they'd had back at the tombs on the mansion grounds all over again. So instead, he drove the truck one-handed in silence, biting harshly on his thumb until a copper taste filled his mouth.

Swearing softly under his breath, he pulled his hand from his mouth, ignoring the concerned looks aimed at him from the passenger beside him, tucking his thumb into his fist and lowering his hand beside his thigh to hide the damage he'd unintentionally done to himself. "Daryl?" came the soft, concerned voice of his passenger. "Are you alright?"

"M'fine," Daryl grumbled, pulling a right turn into the parking lot for the grist mill and distillery. He looked at the few buildings and made sure to turn the truck around so the back faced where they'd be looting and the front was ready to take off back out of the lot. "Mill or Distillery firs'? Not sure what we'll find 'n'either."

Jesus let out a low hum as he climbed out of the truck, making sure his knives were at the ready, just in case. "Probably the mill first. I don't know what we might be able to take, but anything that might help with grain production seems more helpful for Hilltop than just making alcohol."

With a single nod, Daryl joined the scout outside the truck. There was a simple path up to a stone building with a tree in front of it, a [waterway](https://photos.app.goo.gl/ZiYKF7sWi2TriLfu6) leading directly to it. Another path led past a fence and toward another stone building with an animal pen near it. Pointing his crossbow at the first building, the hunter grunted out, "that one. Needs water ta turn th' wheel fer millin'." Direction given, Daryl headed down the path, pausing only long enough to hear the scout's footsteps start behind him.

They passed a very large and round stone, almost like a bench with curious worn grooves in it. "That's a millstone," Jesus commented, studying it a moment. "It's a bit big and heavy to move, but if we have some time before we leave and can find some paper and pen, I'd like to sketch it and what we can of the workings of the mill. It wouldn't hurt since this was actively in action before the world ended, and might help supplement what we can build and do with Georgie's blueprints in her book. Maybe we can carve smaller stones for use." He looked up at Daryl with wide, curious eyes at his own suggestion.

The hunter found himself almost pinned by the ocean colored gaze, feeling his cheeks heating up. With a scowl, he ripped his eyes away and headed toward the door of the mill, not wanting to figure out what had just happened. Belatedly, he remembered he should respond, and glanced over his shoulder at the almost dejected form of the scout before sighing harshly. "If there's time an' we find somethin' ya c'n use," he offered in agreement, reaching for the door and knocking, listening closely for any movement inside.

He missed the grin Paul gave his back before the ninja bounded over, peering inside a window as Daryl knocked again, searching for any movement. "I don't see anything. Don't hear anything either. But there's stairs going down... and maybe one going up? Go in and just be careful? There's a lot of railings, so if there is one in there, it might be stuck."

Grunting out a nod, Daryl tried the door. Finding it locked, he nodded to Jesus. "Git over here an' pick this lock so's we c'n get in easier." His face heated again at the pleased smile he received as the scout knelt before him and swiftly picked the lock, the door swinging open with a slight creak. They both paused a moment, listening inside and hearing a faint, raspy groan to one side. Frowning, Daryl stepped inside, crossbow at the ready, and spotted the walker stuck behind railings and a large wheel. Still, its head was visible, and with barely another pause, the hunter took aim and fired, his arrow flying true and taking the walker down, a bolt sticking through an eye.

Turning, Daryl listened intently as Jesus crept toward the stairs, both with a wary eye out for any other walkers that might be caught in the different areas of the mill. With a nod and a few subtle hand motions, the pair split up, Daryl heading down to the lower level and Jesus heading upstairs. The hunter found no other walkers, though he looked with wide eyes at the gears and shafts that connected to the [large water wheel](https://photos.app.goo.gl/kyuNZYkvFZ9a9wWa9) and spread upward through the whole mill to make everything work. Heading back up to find Jesus to see if he needed help, he met the other man on the third floor as the scout was coming down the stairs from the fourth.

"No walkers," Jesus offered, studying some of the contraptions attached to the shafts that came up through the floors. "And I'm not sure how much of this I can sketch if we find anything to use. I'm not familiar enough with milling to know what some of these things do. We may just have to rely on the blueprints we have already," he said with a sigh. The scout looked almost dejected that he couldn't help with the future building projects in such a way.

Daryl suddenly felt like there was a stone sitting in his gut, and he blurted out, "Ya c'n still sketch. Ya might not know wha' each thing is, but th'others c'n figure it out. An' wors' case, we c'n bring 'em here ta see how they work."

The slow smile the hunter got in response eased the weight in the pit of his stomach as Jesus nodded. "Yeah.... that's... that's a really good idea, Daryl! Anyway, let's see what we can find that's of use. There were some spare gears on the top floor, maybe we can use them when we build a mill of our own, or maybe other buildings too."

With a nod, Daryl added, "There's some wooden tools an' whatnot on th' bottom floor. Not much, but everythin' we bring back c'n be useful. Since this buildin's cleared, let's split up an' pile everythin' by th' door so's we c'n haul it out. When we're done, we c'n check th' distillery."

The pair of them worked swiftly, grabbing anything that wasn't nailed down that might have even the slightest use. It was obvious that this trip wouldn't return with quite the haul that they brought back from the mansion, but they were hopeful that with what they had gathered and what they might find on their run into Fort Belvoir, they'd come back with another substantial amount.

Between them they stacked the loose gears, some hand tools, buckets and bags and even a stool by the door. As Jesus brought another pair of gears down from the upper floors, Daryl had been looting the walker he'd killed, coming up with a triumphant grunt as he pocketed half a pack of cigarettes. An old stick of chewing gum, a small pocket knife, and with a slight grin he pulled the last two items from the shirt pocket of the former walker. "Hey, prick!" Daryl called, turning with a pleased smirk as Jesus set down the gears. A questioning sound left the scouts throat before being replaced with a surprised yelp as a small pocket composition notebook smacked him in the face.

The hunter couldn't help but chuckle at the gobsmacked look on Jesus's face as he walked over to join him, holding out a small stub of a pencil. The scout blinked a few times before he realized what had been thrown at him and what Daryl had in his hand before grinning widely. "Daryl! This is great! Thank you!" Quickly grabbing the pencil stub, the ninja bounded over to the [millstones and gears](https://photos.app.goo.gl/f7tKZ7XBYaocAT3PA) to get rough sketches of how the different machinery worked.

Smiling almost fondly, Daryl started condensing items as best as he could into bags and buckets he'd found. "I'mma start loadin' this crap. I'll holler if I need anythin'." He paused long enough to get an distracted hum of agreement before hauling the goods they'd found outside, propping the door open with one of the gears.

He used the time working to actually examine some of his feelings, something he'd continually put off over and over. But if nothing else, this run had shown him that he couldn't keep doing that, keep shoving the thoughts away and stomping the feelings down deep inside him. He'd felt the heat in his cheeks and the awe he felt at the ninja's wide grin at receiving a simple, tiny notebook and pencil. He couldn't even imagine the reaction he'd get, nor his own response to it, if he actually found the scout a set of actual paints. Every time Jesus was upset or sad it made Daryl want to do something to cheer the man up. And if he was angry, the hunter wanted to strangle whatever made him mad with his bare hands.

These feelings weren't new. The hunter had felt similar ones before, with his family. How pleasing it could be to have Maggie coo over a stuffed animal or a little onesie he'd found on a run. How he'd done all he could to try to bring Carol's little girl home to her, tried to cheer her up while she'd been so sad at the loss. How he'd been all too willing to march to war for Rick too many times since the world had ended. It felt similar to that... but far stronger.

Generally, Daryl didn't like people. Didn't like to get close to them. His family had gotten under his skin, wormed their way into his heart and made him want to hold them close and protect them with everything he had. It seemed that Jesus had managed that as well, but somehow wormed deeper into his heart. Going on runs with him was easy, they worked well together. And the light touches, easy joking, while it made him want to blush, it wasn't bad.

Introspection wasn't exactly something Daryl was good at, but he'd spent the entire time hauling what they'd found to the truck and loading it up thinking on this problem. And the end result was that he didn't think he minded whatever was going on so much. So, with that decision, it stood to reason that he could just see what came of everything, if anything happened, whether it was during this run or after when they were settled for a few days in Hilltop before the next run. And if the hunter maybe tried a few things himself, here and there... it couldn't hurt, could it?

Poking his head back into the door of the mill, the hunter called out a gruff, "Hey! Ya 'bout done?" inside, not seeing the scout anywhere. A scuff of boots from above told him the other man was on one of the upper floors when a call that told him he'd be down in a minute came in response. With a soft huff, Daryl leaned against the door frame, studying the building that was the distillery, looking for any hint of movement around the grounds or in the windows. But it was too far, and the sun was getting lower and shining in his eyes, making it hard to see anything in the shadows the building cast. His head turned as footsteps came down the wooden stairs. "Ya get everythin' all drawn up?" he asked in a gravelly voice, but honestly curious.

Jesus's smile was wide as he nodded exuberantly. "Yes! I don't have measurements or anything, but with these sketches and bringing one or two out here to see how things are, I'm hoping that we might be able to modify some of Georgie's blueprints. It's great that she has them, but from what I saw and remember, her mill is just for one thing. This place seems to have five or six functions all in one, and all powered by the same wheel. When I read the tour book, I remember it saying that everything was done here. After they broke the wheat seeds from the stalks at the farm, they'd bring everything here, and the grain would be cleaned and separated from any debris, ground into flour, sifted from anything not ground enough, cooled, sifted into the different grades of flour depending on how fine it was, and corn was ground into cornmeal too. And anything that wasn't ground fine enough to use for flour and cornmeal or rye fine enough for making whiskey, was fed to the pigs, so nothing went to waste at all. I think it'd be fantastic for Hilltop!"

Daryl couldn't stop the fond feeling that started halfway through Jesus's speech, one corner of his mouth tilting up in a half smile and a soft chuckle escaping at how excited the man was for their home to get something like this mill. And to be honest, Daryl was hoping it would be something they could build, especially with the scout's explanation. Not being able to stop what he was feeling, and having already decided to let himself explore such feelings allowed him to quietly offer a single statement. "If'n I'd known ya'd be this happy 'bout this place, if I'd could, I'd move the whole buildin' ta Hilltop, stone by stone." He watched as the long haired man stilled, staring at him with wide blue eyes, lips parted in surprise before smirking at the dumbfounded man. "C'mon, let's get goin'. We got work ta do. S'time ta search th'other buildin' an' find a place ta sleep fer th'night. We c'n head ta th'town in th'mornin'."

Nodding his head toward the distillery, Daryl lifted his crossbow and headed out, biting his lip and feeling almost pleased with himself as he heard Jesus stumble and his footsteps quicken to catch up with him after a minute. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Distillery and a brief scare.

He had to be imagining things. Reading into things too much. Daryl's comment had thrown Jesus for a loop, leaving the scout stumbling to catch up, his heart in his throat at the sweet and almost flirtatious words. The hunter wasn't like that with him. He'd been gruff and standoffish, seemingly more annoyed than anything. But... there had been little things, Jesus realized, throughout this run that had been sweet in their own way. Daryl had never really been mean toward him, almost treated him as he did his family, just without the touches he sometimes shared with Rick or Carol or Maggie. The older man had brought things back to him before -- books he'd mentioned missing reading, coffee, new bandanas.

Thinking on it, Jesus realized he'd never really had someone that brought things he needed or wanted to him like that before. Sure he'd had boyfriends before the end of the world, and people in Hilltop offering items they thought he needed or could use, but Daryl always seemed to bring things back that had only been mentioned in passing, or not mentioned but something the hunter had noticed. Like Jesus always enjoying a cup of coffee in the morning and how low his supply was getting, or finding a new bandana to replace the one he'd torn on a run. Bringing back a copy of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ a few weeks after the scout had mentioned it having once been a favorite book but not having found a copy since the end of the world once in a conversation with someone else that Daryl had been near enough to hear. That was it, then. He was being treated as family, and anyone who knew the hunter knew he'd do anything for his family, even attempt to move heaven and earth.

And he'd screwed up enough on this run, making the surly hunter pull away or grow angry. So with a breath to calm his nerves (and a furtive glance at the archer's muscular backside), Jesus pulled himself together and followed the other man toward the distillery, determined to think more on this later and see if he might be able to reach out again. "You know," he spoke up, jogging forward to walk next to Daryl, "When the world ended, this was the only 18th century style distillery in America?" The scout offered a smile, offering more information he'd read in the tour book. "I think I read that modern alcohol producers could make what this distillery could make in a fraction of the time. But they kept making everything the same way, to be true to the historic way Washington had his whiskey made."

Glancing over at the hunter, Jesus was pleased to see that slight upward curve at the corner of his mouth. He felt like jumping for joy, but refrained as they turned around the corner of the building and saw the large doors wide open. Frowning, he jogged forward, stopping with his back to the wall just beside the doorway, pulling his knives out and listening a moment as Daryl stood at a distance, crossbow ready and aimed at dark interior of the building. Glancing to the hunter, he received a nod and he loudly knocked the hilt of one knife on the wooden door.

With his back to the wall, he couldn't see inside the distillery, but he saw Daryl tense and fire, quickly loading another bolt to fire again, and heard the raspy groans. Turning toward the opening, Jesus leaned forward, just enough to look inside and stepped back in surprise. There were at least a dozen walkers, and how and why they didn't come out earlier, he had no clue. It's not like they'd been really quiet as they had talked on their way to the gristmill and the distillery, and loading the truck certainly couldn't have been silent.

Then he noticed Daryl moving closer, still firing, and the walkers straining against something to get closer. With a frown, Jesus joined in the fray, staying to the side to stay out of the archer's aim, ducking in to stab and slash, taking out walkers quicker than the crossbow's need to reload. And that's when he saw it. Someone had shackled the walkers crudely to some of the supporting posts for the second story.

One strained forward, suddenly disappearing beneath his downward stab in a forward lunge, knocking into his chest and pulling him down as a startled yelp escaped his mouth. The scout felt pressure at his arm, painful, but rotting teeth unable to get through the thick leather of his trench coat. His heart pounded in his throat as he fought off panic and swiftly stabbed the putrid creature through the temple, breathing a sigh of relief as the body pinning him stilled.

Jesus started to shove the corpse off him, hearing the crossbow fire twice more, quicker than he'd ever heard Daryl reload before, and suddenly hands were on his shoulders, dragging him from the pile of dead. "Paul! Paul, ya a'right? Did it getcha?" The hunter's hands patted down his torso, and Jesus looked up, his breath caught at the sound of his real name spoken in that gravelly voice. Blue eyes were wide in worry, panic blooming as he got no response. " **Paul!** " Daryl's voice was sharp and his movements were rough, moving the scout as if he weighed nothing, looking for any hint of a rip or tear that teeth or scratches could have gotten through. "Didja get bit?"

"I..." His tongue felt heavy and his heart thudded in his chest before he finally was able to bring himself to his senses to calm the hunter. "N-No. Couldn't get through my coat. Likely to have a bruise, but it didn't get me." He couldn't help but stare as Daryl seemed to deflate in relief, pulling back but not all the way, one hand lingering on a leather clad arm as if making certain he was still there as a wide, worried blue-eyed gaze ducked behind long hair when the hunter ducked his head, bringing his thumb to his mouth once again.

"M'glad," was mumbled around a thumbnail, gruff and almost choked sounding. "Never make fun o' ya 'gain fer wearin' it. Saved ya life." Jesus's heart constricted at the almost desperate tone, and he reached out, resting his hand on top of the one resting on his arm.

"I'm alright, Daryl. What even happened?" he asked, mind finally spinning back to the here and now and what had just happened. Walkers had been chained up in the distillery. All the floors weren't clear yet and he couldn't see all of the building from where they were. They didn't know who had chained the walkers, why, or if that person would be back. They needed to check everything before they could figure out anything that was going on between them. He leaned forward, shifting the walker that had downed him to see that it was missing a leg. The walking corpse had been pulling so hard that its decomposing body hadn't been able to take the strain, and the leg had been pulled out of the socket. Checking the chains where they were secured around the post, they looked rusted and old. "Ugh. Why would someone do this? They're old, so I don't know that this was done recently, but we need to finish checking the building."

He watched as the words seemed to pull Daryl back together, the muscular form tensing and his head raising again. The crossbow was picked back up and with a grunt of agreement, the older man brought it to the ready even as he stood in a fluid motion, stalking toward a half wall that blocked part of the ground level to check. Picking himself back up, Jesus headed to the opposite end of the room, checking behind brick fireplace-esque structures and large barrels to make sure there weren't any other surprises.

They met back at the base of the stairs, quickly coming to the conclusion that there was nothing else left in the distilling room, and carefully they headed up together. The wooden steps creaked beneath their weight, and they paused but heard nothing else. Arriving at the second floor, they looked around, checking behind walls, to find the upper level clear. Jesus was checking behind the door in a room that looked dedicated to a short movie about the distillery when he heard Daryl call out a gruff, "Hey, found ya somethin'!" followed by the crash of glass.

Quickly scurrying out to the other room, knives at the ready, he was treated to the sight of Daryl, with arm muscles bulging, smashing another piece of glass in what looked like a display with his crossbow. The hunter was pulling bottles of what looked like [whiskey](https://photos.app.goo.gl/3LQgcfJbffeAgYf4A), which when he thought about it made sense given their location, before the hunter turned to him and pointed to the opposite wall. Following where he was pointing, the scout couldn't help but grin. There was a tiny [diorama of the farm](https://photos.app.goo.gl/nLZkr7hFc9CETLNB8), including the 16 sided barn, and [one of the mill](https://photos.app.goo.gl/5i891AaEfjWZQBd69) that looked rather like a dollhouse, showing the gears and how everything connected. "Can we get these and take them with us? I'd bet these are even to scale, and would be far more effective than my sketches!"

With another grunt, Daryl pushed the bottles he'd taken from [the displays](https://photos.app.goo.gl/62cEWK9LG5TeybXX6) into the scout's hands, and headed to the diorama of the mill. Looking at how it was secured, he frowned. "Need some tools. Take those ta th' truck." The hunter seemed to have clammed up, his words gruffer and even shorter than usual, not even looking at Jesus as he tried to get the diorama up without breaking it, heading for a closet that had been left open to search for some potential tools.

With a soft sigh, the scout watched for a moment before deciding it would be best to leave Daryl alone to his own thoughts. He didn't want to push and have the hunter angry at him again. His own thoughts were whirling faster in his head as he headed down, setting the bottles into a small barrel, deciding to start clearing things out of the ground floor as he thought. The barrels were huge, but perhaps they could use them for things other than just making liquor. With that in mind, Jesus started to grab anything and everything that wasn't nailed down and started packing what he could and moving things to the truck.

But he kept thinking about what had happened. Daryl had never called him by his given name before. In fact, he had never heard anything from Daryl but insults -- prick, asshole, hippie, ninja.... or some combination of them -- to the point that the scout wondered if Daryl even remembered what he was called. No one called him Paul, ever. And it was nice to hear, especially from Daryl. The slight drawl his accent gave the name, and the deep, rocky way the man spoke, just remembering how his name had been said, even if it had been in panic, sent shivers down his spine. How would it sound normally? Or... intimately?

Biting his lip hard, Jesus tamped down on the arousal that thought stirred within him. No, Daryl had never called him Jesus... and he never felt like he had to put on that persona with the hunter. With Daryl, he could be more of himself. Daryl allowed him be Paul, made him comfortable... and how had he never noticed any of this before? They were going to have to talk about it now, though. Now that the hunter had called him by name, he ached to hear it again and again.

He'd managed to move a wheelbarrow with some firewood, two of the large barrels with lids, some brooms, buckets, and funnels, and few odd looking sticks that were straight but at one end had multiple pieces sticking out like a two sided comb, a couple smaller barrels and bags, a straw hat that'd been sitting there, and a toolbox with the alcohol Daryl had claimed to the truck. He'd also looted the clothing from the walkers, still concerned about why they had been chained up, but so long as they were gone before anyone might possibly return, it should be fine. And he'd come up relatively empty in anything useful the walkers had on them. Money, a pack of gum he doubted anyone wanted to put in their mouth after being in a walker's pocket for so long, some destroyed bits of paper and some old wallets with nothing useful in them. The only things he did take were a disposable lighter that still miraculously worked, a tiny swiss army knife, and still sealed tube of chapstick.

Daryl's footsteps started down the stairs as he was studying one of the brick... fireplaces? Jesus wasn't sure what it was, but he wasn't sure if it would be helpful to take the copper pieces off the top of not. He'd not really gotten into the tour book about the distillery much, so while he'd picked up a bit of history, he really didn't know how any of it worked. Looking over to Daryl as he came downstairs, he frowned as the older man was hiding behind his hair again, but grinned when he saw the entire mill diorama and the barn in his hands. Bounding over, he took them from the hunter. "Thank you! I'm going to put this in the truck so it doesn't get ruined. Is there anything else up there that needs to come?"

Free of anything to occupy his hands, a thumb came back up to the hunter's mouth again. "S'a tool box could use. An' a still up there we could take. Be easier'n takin' these set ups." He motioned toward the brick blocks.

Nodding an agreement, he offered another chance for the hunter to get his head together. "Alright, I'll run these out, you go up and grab those. I'm not sure if anything I've grabbed in here is useful or not, but we can use them for other things I'm sure, if we don't need liquor. And as large as the barrels are, we can use them to collect rainfall and help with the farming." Without giving Daryl a chance to say anything else, he headed out to the truck, carefully putting the diorama pieces into the front. When he came back, Daryl had the toolbox by the distillery door, and was checking the [large copper piece](https://photos.app.goo.gl/Es3KE5sGaXB7WxSZ9) he'd hauled down against some tubing in a barrel. Deciding to keep everything light and focused on the practical, he asked, "What is that? Do we really need alcohol at Hilltop?"

The hunter shot him a look before pointing to the [brick fireplace](https://photos.app.goo.gl/2gHPTFAiX158hz8Y8)s. "S'a still for making alcohol. This bottom piece is in the top part of the firebox, right over where ya make th' fire ta heat up the mash ya put inside. Alcohol evaporates quicker'n water, so's th'vapor rises inta th'onion," and he tapped the top part. "Pressure forces th'vapor down inta this tube, th'worm." He pointed to the small barrel beside the firebox, tapping the copper tube that ran circles down the inside to a small spout out the back. Tapping the wooden trough that came down over the barrel he added, "Looks like it's set up ta bring water from th'mill stream inta th'barrel, which is cold an' cools th'vapor in th'tubing back ta alcohol. Th'water overflows out th'front spout, an' th'alcohol goes out th'back. Likely inta a container lined wi'some kinda filter. An' alcohol's good fer more than jus' drinkin'. Can use it fer fuel, sanitizin', an' th' real bad stuff fer antifreeze."

Jesus blinked in surprise at the lengthy and rather detailed explanation. "Wow. Okay, we'll take back everything we can then. What are those for?" He asked, pointing to a large tub like structure in the middle and the [large barrels](https://photos.app.goo.gl/RzPsBVZmbgnxskvd6) everywhere.

Studying the tub for a moment, and finding a similar method of heating as with the fireboxes, and seeing the trough nearby connected to a well outside instead, he huffed a soft chuckle. "They've got quite th'system. Boil water in th'tub, move it ta th'barrels. Add corn ta the boiling water. Mix it wi'those rakes," he said, pointing to the odd looking sticks Jesus had found before, "an add malt barley an' yeast. Stick th'lid on an' let it ferment. Pour th'mash from it inta th' still. Once all th'alcohol's evaporated, ya c'n use th'remainin' mash fer livestock feed. S'all useable."

The hunter constantly impressed Jesus. His skill in the woods, tracking and hunting, his aim with his crossbow, his strategic mind and bravery when faced with hordes of undead. His loyalty and love for his family, his care he showed the children at Hilltop, skills with mechanical items, and patience when teaching someone how to do one of those things. He knew the hunter was intelligent, he had to be to learn so many of those skills he possessed. But he'd never realized the hidden knowledge that Daryl held about random topics. "How do you know all of this, Daryl?"

A beautiful blue eye peeked out from behind a curtain of hair, a slight upset twist to his lips before his gaze was cast down again and a thumb once again made its way to his mouth. "M'daddy made moonshine. Same idea, this s'just larger. When I got old 'nough, looked it up. Wanted him ta b'proud o' me, tryin' ta help. Bu' it di'n't work out." The archer clammed up again, checking the fit of the tubing once more before unhooking one of the barrels with the tubing and dragging it behind him to the truck after hefting up the still in one arm.

Despite the lovely sight of bulging muscles, Jesus could only feel his heart sink. He'd have to delay his questions about the use of his name further. Daryl's father was a topic best avoided, and now that it had been brought up, the hunter was going to be silent and surly. Maggie had hinted about the hunter's family, mostly his brother, but a little about what she suspected, but had never gone into detail. With them living together, the scout had seen glimpses of scars, but Daryl took great care in making sure he was never topless when anyone else was around. But it was little things like that, and the way Daryl observed everyone and everything no matter where he was, the way he tracked the exits in a new place before anything else, how he would keep his back to a wall, but never in a place he could get cornered. Jesus had known children like that in the group homes, and could put two and two together.

Heaving a sad sigh for Daryl's past, wishing he could do something to help, to listen, anything, he proceeded to go to another barrel with the 'worm' tube and unhook it, following out with that as well, grabbing up the toolbox the hunter had brought down as well. Silently, he helped load what was left into the truck, watching as Daryl went back in to bring out another still, this one in a different shape, perhaps a spare of the ones in the fire boxes. Within a few minutes they were shutting the door on the back of the truck and climbing into the front. Jesus claimed the driver's seat this time, and paused a moment before starting the engine, watching from the corner of his eye as Daryl slumped against the passenger door, looking out the window. "...Daryl," he finally started, his tone gentle. "You know, if you ever want to talk about anything, I'm happy to listen. I think it's great you know so much, and it's been a huge help in Hilltop, and will continue to be."

His only response was a grunt that he interpreted as little more than acknowledgement. Turning the key to start the truck, the scout left it alone, leaving the hunter to his own thoughts and headed back on the road to Fort Belvoir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end of the tour of Washington's mansion and other grounds and areas, but the story isn't over yet! I hope everyone enjoyed the historical tour that sort of inspired this story. We're going into unknown territory now (because I never went to Fort Belvoir, but it seemed the next logical place on actual maps to hit). Hopefully you'll enjoy the next part just as much as the first, though I think there's only going to be a few more chapters left of this story. 
> 
> And finally, if anyone is interested in the process of making alcohol that Daryl describes, here is a fairly detailed video from the people at Mount Vernon, on how the distillery worked: https://www.mountvernon.org/video/view/14/
> 
> Also, to go along with the previous chapter at the gristmill, here is a similar video of how the mill worked: https://www.mountvernon.org/video/watch/oliver-evans-system
> 
> I really can't say enough what an amazing and wonderful site the people at Mount Vernon have put together about the history of this place and all they've done to keep everything up. My trip there was almost 6 months ago, and I've been starting to forget some of the things I'd learned, and the Mount Vernon site is fabulous for research! They even have a virtual tour which I used to remember areas I didn't take pictures in, or wasn't able to take pictures in (like the inside of the mansion). I definitely recommend going to look at it, as they have all sorts of information blurbs throughout the tour, which is where I got some of the facts and stories that Jesus had "read" from his guide book.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos! I love the feedback! :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl reveals some of his past and our boys have a discussion about a name.

Once again, it was quiet in the truck. It was something that had seemed to have become the norm between them, but besides just quiet, it was also tense, and that wasn't what Daryl wanted. Bringing up his father had been a sore spot, his family and his past wasn't something he spoke of often, and usually just brought up bad memories. But Jesus had been right -- despite why he'd learned everything, it was all coming in handy now, and would benefit their community.

Lifting his head away from the window, the archer looked forward so he could see the scout from the corner of his eye and raised his thumb to his mouth to bite at the skin around his nail. "M'daddy didn't much like me. Blamed me an' m'brother fer everything. Used ta-" he choked, trying to get the next part out, that admission of how useless he was, unable to stand up for himself or get away from his father's fists and belt. How even now he still woke up in the dead of night, terrified that his next punishment was only moments away. Falling silent again, he bit harder on his thumb, picking at his jeans with his other hand.

"It's alright. I understand, I do. I didn't have that happen to me, but there were others at the group home that had come from... volatile situations. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to." Jesus's voice was calm and soothing. "We can talk about anything else instead. Your guitar playing... any favorites you like to play all the time?"

The new topic did the trick, sort of. He went from a thick, choking tension to an antsy, nervous one. No one but Merle had known he could play before the scout had found him playing for the two little girls after they'd arrived in Hilltop when Alexandria had been taken out. When Carl....

Forcing his mind off that, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Classics. Rock. Zeppelin, Poison, Guns N' Roses. Stones, Skynyrd, Jovi, Queen, Eagles...." Glancing away almost shyly, trying to hide the heat he felt touching his cheeks, he added, "'S what I grew up hearin' on th'radio." He ducked his head to hide behind his hair and peeked through the strands at the scout, only to swallow hard at the bright smile the other was sending his way.

"I look forward to hearing some of them, if you don't mind, Daryl. Those are great bands, and I loved a lot of their songs." A touch to his knee made him flinch, and he looked down to see Jesus's hand retreating. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking," the scout added, placing both hands back firmly on the wheel, an odd twist to his lips.

Cursing himself internally for being such a pussy, Daryl shook his head. "Nah, s'my fault. Wasn't 'spectin’ it 's'all." Looking out the window again, hoping to see anything helpful for their scavenging, the hunter was disappointed to see only roads and fields. Nothing to distract him. The silence drew out again, and though it was not as uncomfortable as before it was still tense. He once again allowed his mouth to speak whatever came to mind. "No one else knows I play."

"No one? Really? Why not? I very much enjoyed what I heard." Jesus's eyebrows rose high as he glanced away from the road briefly to look at Daryl.

Shrugging in silence, the hunter considered the question. "Dunno. Never seemed... right. We was always tryin' ta keep quiet in th'early days. Dale... umm..." he choked up again at the thought of the old man that he had ended things for with a mercy killing. "Dale'd found a guitar, jus' a crappy ol' acoustic, really outta tune. He gave it ta Glenn, thought he might be th'type ta play. I... wasn't as close with m'family then. Had jus’ lost m’brother ‘cuz Rick cuffed him ta th’roof in Atlanta. Didn’t really trust any o’ them yet. Kept m'cards close ta m'chest. I fiddled with it some when I was healin' after gettin' one o' m'own bolts stabbed through me an' shot in th'head by Andrea. Everyone else was too busy wi’ their own drama t'pay attention t'what I was doin'."

"Stabbed by your own bolt? Shot in the head??" Jesus's voice was rather panicked, and then angry at the thought. "What the hell, Daryl! Where is she and how can I kill her?"

Daryl stared at the scout, blinking in confusion. He'd long since come to terms with what had happened and didn't truly realize why the other man was so upset. It was in the past, after all. But he was upset -- the grim set of his jaw and the way his knuckles turned white as he clenched the steering wheel as if to strangle the life out of someone by the neck. "Andrea died later on. She didn't mean ta, it was an accident -- she jus’ grazed m’temple. And it's been years since it happened." He shifted his fingers through his hair, lifting it just enough for Jesus to see the long scar along his temple where the bullet had grazed him.

The scout swallowed a few times his throat going dry as he glanced over and saw the scar through the hair the hunter was holding up, trying to figure out what had happened and hating the thought of it happening at all, that the hunter had come so close to death in such a way, but not having enough context in what Daryl had already said. So he prodded a little more. “Why… Why did she shoot you in the first place?”

“She thought I’s a walker. I’d been searchin’ fer Sophia -- Carol’s li’l girl who’d ran off inta th’woods wi’ walkers chasin’ her. I was determined ta find her, an’ no one else was lookin’. Borrowed a horse without askin’ from Maggie’s daddy, an’ it threw me when it was spooked by a rattlesnake. Pitched down a small cliff onta th’ground, lost m’crossbow in th’river, bu’ not ‘fore it shot off one o’ m’own bolts through m’side. Fought off some walkers, fetched m’bow from th’river, ate parts o’ a squirrel raw fer strength. Made a necklace o’ walker ears ta try ta help hide b’hind their own stench -- didn’t want ta get walker guts in th’arrow wound. Climbed back up th’ cliff an’ headed back ta th’farm on foot. Was soaked an’ dirty, covered in blood, exhausted by then, so pro’ly walkin’ like ‘em too. She took th’shot, was tryin’ ta protect th’group.”

Daryl had never spoke so much nor so freely about parts of his past, though most of this was something that almost any of his current family could tell the younger man, so it wasn’t exactly a secret. Still, as much as Jesus seemed rather… disconcerted about what he was hearing, he still seemed interested. Asking questions, at the very least.

“I, uh… I’m sorry all that happened. Did you ever find Sophia?”

Asking questions that only made Daryl want to pull away again, hide behind that constant facade of anger, indifference, and sarcasm. He couldn’t help it, turning his head away and biting almost ferally on the skin around his thumb. He hadn’t been able to help Sophia, hadn’t been able to save a scared little girl. Hadn’t been good enough to track her down, get there fast enough. Carol’s sobs still rang in his ears, and the vision of the child coming out of the barn swam in front of his eyes, making him blink away tears.

“I’m sorry, Daryl. I didn’t mean to pry. And… I’m sorry for your loss.”

The hunter’s head jerked around to look at Jesus, staring into sympathetic blue-green eyes for just a moment before the scout looked back at the road. He hadn’t answered the question, how had he… no. Everyone had lost someone, and his silence must have been obvious. He turned away again, offering only a shrug and silence fell across the cab of the truck once more.

____________________

They were driving slowly through the streets leading up to Fort Belvoir, which -- judging by the walls and gates and checkpoints -- was a military base. Daryl grimaced at the thought. A military base meant either it was completely abandoned for a more strategic location or it was used as a sanctuary and had gotten overrun. And the second option was far more likely than the first. Still the checkpoints didn’t seem too hard to get out of, a few gates and barriers broken and destroyed so anyone, or anything, could come and go at will. From outside the base, it looked like things were a bit more on the abandoned side, but the destruction and blood and mauled bodies that could be seen showed how things had started.

Carefully, Jesus drove the truck down the first street, looking at the houses intently. Following suit, Daryl was a bit disheartened, as most buildings had doors hanging open, broken windows, debris scattered across the ground nearby. “Maybe further in,” he suggested, mumbling around his thumb. “Could be tha’ only th’outer buildin’s were hit. Easier ta get inta an’ back out without gettin’ caught by walkers.”

Jesus nodded, and carefully turned at the next intersection, heading deeper into the base, hoping to find some homes and buildings a little more intact for them to scavenge. Both men kept their eyes peeled for a good sign, and to look for walkers and make sure there wasn’t a herd waiting for them to turn the corner. “Why did you call me Paul?”

Daryl jerked a little, startled at the question. “Wha’?” Forcing his eyes back on their surroundings to keep aware of what was going on around them, the hunter thought back for when he’d called the other by name. He hadn’t even realized he had, and bit his lip when he realized it had happened in his panic.

“You called me Paul. Back at the Distillery. Why?” The scout was looking around, as if trying to seem indifferent, but the intensity in his voice and, with a quick glance, the way his body was so tense let Daryl realize just how important it was to the other man to know the answer.

Biting at his thumb again, the hunter tensed up at the thought of discussing his thoughts and turned to look back out, focusing on movement down one street before realizing it was just some kind of cloth caught on a rail moving in the breeze. It gave him time to think on how to answer. He wanted to be honest, explain himself and hopefully give the scout a proper answer to his question, even if he didn’t like the answer. “I… didn’t realize I’d called ya by name. Ya said when we firs’ met tha’ ya friends called ya Jesus… an’ we weren’t friends. Not at firs’. Ya’d said ta take ya pick wha’ we called ya, bu’ no one calls ya Paul. I thought maybe ya didn’t like it. An’ after all ya did fer me, helpin’ me out after th’Sanctuary, lettin’ me stay with ya, ya were kinda like Jesus ta me. M’own savior. Bu’ I can’t call ya that. It’s… weird. I’ve always called ya Paul in m’head.”

There was silence for a moment, and it was quiet enough between them that Daryl could hear Jesus’s nervous swallow, detect the strain and slight tremor in his voice as he asked, “Why is it weird?”

“It’s… just weird. Ya seem ta wear th’name like a shield or a mask. Ya don’t act th’same when ya get back ta th’trailer. Ya seem more relaxed there, an’ ya don’t seem ta really enjoy th’nickname. An’ I can’t think o’ ya as Jesus, as a savior, ‘cause then I jus’ think o’ th’Sanctuary an’ him again. Makes m’skin crawl.” The hunter was silent a moment, shoving away the feeling that rose at mentioning it all. This was a heavy talk, and while he wasn’t one to lie and spin tales, all this honesty was weighing on him, and it seemed even more tense between them. So he offered up a last explanation. “An’ ‘cause it’s jus’ a stupid name, man.” Also true, but not as deep a reasoning, said with a faint huff of amusement because he’d scoffed at the name when he’d first met the pickpocket.

His last comment got a single burst of sound, a faint “Ha!” that sounded amused but also seemed wet, as if he was one step away from breaking down. Daryl felt almost bad, like he’d pried into the other man’s life without meaning too, just because he was observant. Jesus’s voice was still strained, still trembled a little when he finally responded after a few long minutes. “Thank you for telling me. The truth is, you’re absolutely right. I do use the name, the persona that goes with it as a shield. I keep myself distanced from everyone because it’s easier to cope if I don’t get attached. I failed at that with Maggie, and I failed at that with you. I didn’t realize that the name would remind you of him and of them, and I wish I could make sure no one else ever used it, just so you’d be comfortable-”

The hunter interrupted with a sharp, “Nah,” shaking his head. “Tha’s not th’problem. Th’thought doesn’t come up much. Jus’ when I think about it too much. An’ I don’t really do tha’. ‘S jus’ once in a while.”

Nodding, Jesus continued on as if he hadn’t been interrupted, taking Daryl’s words in stride and dropping the point. “The point is, I don’t really like the name. It’s not me. And it’s not that I don’t like anyone using my name, everyone else just seems to prefer to call me Jesus. But… I’ve always liked that you never did, even if you didn’t use my name. But… we are friends, and… I’d like it, I’d be honored, if you’d use my name instead.” The truck came to a stop in an area deeper in the neighborhood part of the base that seemed more abandoned than ransacked, and the scout turned to look at the older man after putting the vehicle in park. His blue-green eyes were serious but his lips curled up into a smile. “Really, Daryl, I’d love it.”

Daryl studied him for a moment before nodding once in agreement. “Alrigh’… Paul,” he said lowly, watching as a shiver seemed to run down the long haired man’s spine. Still, he felt the need to clarify. “But I’m not gonna stop callin’ ya all th’other crap either. ‘Cause ya are a prick, Prick.”

It was worth the serious conversation they’d had, and the moments of nervousness and upset to see the joy and laughter blooming across Paul’s features, brightening his expression into a beautiful sight, even as the scout teased back, “I’ll just consider them pet names and terms of endearment, then!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the hunter gruffed, unable to stop one corner of his mouth from lifting in amusement, and instead looking out at the houses around them. “Let’s jus’ go get whatever else we can an’ head back home.” The conversation was making him nervous again, and he needed to gather his thoughts again.

“We’ve pretty much solved the long term food problem, and likely a few other long term issues. And, like you mentioned before, with the distillery stuff, we could at least make alcohol for other things. Right now we need more immediate food options and medical things. Weapons if we can.” They both knew all of this, but Daryl didn't comment. He liked listening to the other talk, the sound of his voice was soothing the residual nerves from their discussion. The pair checked their weapons as Paul spoke, and getting back to business allowed the hunter's shoulders to relax. They’d done fantastic on their run so far, and they were both hopeful that the trend would continue.

____________________

They didn't have much luck with the houses. It seemed that all of them had already been stripped, and they only found a few minor items here and there; a can of beans, a box of band-aids, a couple pieces of clothing. The pair still took what they could find, stuffing everything into backpacks they had taken with them. Eventually they tucked everything they’d gathered into the truck, stashing away items in with everything from the farm, mill, and distillery. After all, every little bit was helpful even if this part of the run wasn't as prosperous as they had hoped.

It was Paul who had seen it first. Daryl had been driving, carefully turning the corner down another street when the scout pointed out something that had caught his eye. “What is that?” He asked, pointing out the window. A house that was smaller than any others they’d seen on these streets had its windows boarded up. No other house they’d seen so far had been boarded up or fortified. “Do you think someone might be living there?”

Studying the house with narrowed blue eyes, Daryl shook his head. “Can’t tell,” he rasped. “Doesn’t look like anyone broke in, bu’ it’s hard ta tell. Could be damage in th’back. ‘S’a good pick fer holin’ up, though. Smaller’n th’rest, easier ta protect, ta heat. If’n it’s only one’r two people, would be alrigh’ fer stockpilin’ bu’ more’n that we’d see more signs of. They’d have ta go out more often. Might be why th’other houses have been so bare.” There was a long pause before a sigh as the hunter admitted, “It’s also possible that there’s a whole herd of walkers shoved in there.”

Paul turned and gave Daryl a wide grin. “I’ll try to be optimistic. Let’s park here and go see. Try to get in. Maybe we can bring someone back with us, or maybe they haven’t survived, but there’s a chance to grab some stuff. Once we’re done here, we can go a bit further and see if the hospital is worth tackling or not, then head home.” With a grunt of agreement at the scout’s suggestion, Daryl grabbed his crossbow, double checked his knives, and generally made sure they were ready to take on a whole group of walkers, if necessary. With Paul following suit, they both left the truck, closing the doors quietly, and approached the house on silent feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I think I've only got a couple more chapters for this story. But not to worry, I have thoughts as to where to take this in the future! The tale will continue!
> 
> Please Comment and let me know what you think! Kudos are also lovely!

**Author's Note:**

> About the places -- Mount Vernon is a real place -- it is the home of George Washington, and is a famous historic site. Alexandria is similarly a real place -- though I imagine that the ASZ to be somewhere on the outskirts. I've also looked up where places like Hilltop, the Sanctuary and the Kingdom might be, and they're all supposedly within 20 miles of each other and the ASZ, which works well enough for this fic, but no other real idea of where they might be. Mentions of the Torpedo Factory and Old Town are also real -- I had a lot of fun visiting there, and couldn't help but add in mentions of the very real places. Since Alexandria is right on the western bank of the Potomac River, I have this sort of idea that Alexandria is on the eastern point of a diamond, and Hilltop is at the southern point, Kingdom at the northern point, and the Sanctuary at the western point, if anyone is interested in looking up where things are on a map.
> 
> Comments, constructive criticism, and kudos are appreciated!


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